Chasing Demons
by geekymoviemom
Summary: Tony and Steve managed to defeat the combined forces of Aldrich Killian and Obadiah Stane, but that victory came at a great cost. Because while they both wanted nothing more than to live in peace with their son and their Avengers' family, sometimes the demons left behind in the wake of battle are just too strong to ignore. They cut off one head, but two more have taken its place.
1. Chapter 1

**_Welcome to my new superfamily story! This is a direct sequel to my previous superfamily story Pieces of Echoes, and picks up about four months following its conclusion. If you haven't read Pieces of Echoes, the main points to know from that story are that Steve was unfrozen earlier than in canon and sent to rescue Tony and Peter in Afghanistan. Steve and Tony eventually fell in love and were married, and Steve adopted Peter. Peter's Spider-Man enhancements began to emerge once he hit puberty and are still developing, but due to circumstances he is not currently patrolling as Spider-Man. All of the Avengers except for Thor live in the Tower/ Compound, as well as Bucky Barnes._**

**_New chapters will be posted every Monday until the story concludes. :)_**

* * *

_He was so tired he was surprised he could even still stand, much less scramble up the rickety ladder that led to one of the upper levels of the bunker. All around him the battle waged; the smoke- and dust-filled air stinging his eyes and burning his throat, while the deafening sounds of Hulk's roars combined with explosions massive enough to shake the stone walls of the structure made it almost impossible for Steve to hear his teammates over the comm._

_And yet, he still could hear Peter's voice in his head as easily as if he were shouting right next to his ear._

"_Papa!" he said, so small and terrified that Steve's skin pebbled with goosebumps. "Papa, please, help me!"_

"_I'm coming, little guy!" Steve called to him. "Just hold on, I'm on my way!"_

_I have to catch him! Steve thought desperately as he raced up yet another ladder, barely able to hang on when another explosion came from somewhere above him, nearly blowing him free. He's my son, and I need to catch him!_

"_Steve!" Tony yelled into his ear. "I'll be on my way, honey, just got trapped behind some rubble!"_

"_Peter's here, Tony, he's right above me!" Steve replied through his raw throat. "I'm heading up to him now!"_

"_I'm so tired, Papa!" Peter gasped into Steve's frantic mind. "So tired! I can't—I just wanna sleep—!"_

"_I know, little guy, and I'm gonna get there as soon as I can, okay? You just gotta hold on!"_

_But then he was grabbed by a pair of flaming arms, one wrapping around his waist and the other round his neck as they dragged him backwards, away from his son who was desperately calling for him. And then Steve heard the slimy voice of Aldrich Killian as he rasped into his ear, "Go on, Captain, tell him how important he is to you! Tell him how it's his fault that you have to blow me off, just like his father did all those years ago!"_

_His vision was blurring, the pressure on his windpipe ratcheting up to almost unbearable levels when a gunshot suddenly pierced the fiery air and he was pushed forward, landing hard on the concrete floor with Killian's dead body draped over him. Sputtering for breath, Steve shoved Killian off of him and scrambled to his feet, his shield dropping to the floor with a loud clang as he looked up to see Peter, still dangling precariously from a railing high above him._

"_Papa, help me!"_

"_Peter, you gotta let go, okay, little guy? It's all right, I'm gonna catch you!"_

_As if in slow motion, Steve watched as Peter bit down hard on his bottom lip and gave a nod, his huge, frightened brown eyes flashing orange just as he released the railing, falling towards Steve's outstretched arms._

_But instead of catching him, all Steve could do was watch in horror as the next explosion blew Peter right out of his reach, sending him plummeting three stories down to the bunker's lowest level, directly into a huge pit of fire._

"_No!" he attempted to scream, but his throat was too tight and too scorched for him to manage much more than a weak croak. A split-second later, Steve heard the horrifying sound of Tony's armoured suit hitting the stone wall and crashing down onto the floor as he struggled to breathe in, the surrounding air so hot and dense he felt like he was burning from the inside out._

_Oh God, I didn't—I didn't catch him! Why didn't—I was supposed to catch him—why didn't I—!_

"_It's all my fault! I was supposed to catch him, why didn't I catch him?"_

"_Steve," a voice suddenly said from right next to him, a soft, comforting voice that Steve loved beyond reason. "Babe, it's only a nightmare. You just gotta wake up."_

_No, no, no, no, no, Steve thought. I saw the absolute terror in Peter's eyes as he fell. I heard the crushing sound of metal slamming against stone. I felt the agony when my son disappeared into that vat of flames._

_And it was all my fault. I failed him. I failed them both._

"_Steve, wake up!" the voice said again, more firmly this time. "It's okay, honey, I'm right here!"_

"_It's all my fault!" he cried. "I failed them!"_

"Steve, it's only a dream! Wake up!"

Steve's eyes flew open with a shuddering gasp, his chest heaving as he shot bolt upright up on the bed, nearly knocking Tony in the face with his shoulder. Tony immediately gathered Steve into his arms, tucking his head under his chin so he could hear Tony's heartbeat, his entire trembling body coated in a thick layer of sweat.

"Shh, big guy, it's all right," Tony said. "I've got you."

"Tony, it's—it's Peter!" Steve choked out, his fingers curled around Tony's arm, clinging to him as if his very life depended on it. "I didn't—I didn't catch him! I didn't—and then he _fell_, and—"

"Stop, babe, it wasn't your fault," Tony murmured into Steve's hair. "It was Killian's. Killian was trying to kill Pete, but you stopped him. And you saved Peter, honey, you saved both of us. Pete and I are both alive because of you."

"You're alive. Oh God, you're alive!" Steve gasped as he squeezed his eyes closed, focusing in on the melodic sound of Tony's heartbeat and the feel of his long mechanic's fingers carding through his hair. His chest hurt so badly that he could barely breathe, and he knew his ironclad grip was probably hurting Tony, but he couldn't seem to bring himself to let go.

Tony was his lifeline. There was no way he could let go of him.

"Yeah, honey, I'm alive," answered Tony, over and over again. "Pete and I are both alive, and he's just down the hall in his room sleeping right now. Right, JARVIS?"

"You are correct, sir," answered JARVIS. "Master Peter is currently sleeping comfortably, and his vital signs are within his normal parameters."

"See, babe? Pete's just fine," Tony said. He dug his fingertips into Steve's scalp, pulling a soft moan from his throat. "JARVIS would never lie."

_Peter's okay. He's just in his room, sleeping._

_He's alive._

_But… I still didn't catch him._

_Why didn't I catch him?_

_I was supposed to catch him._

They were quiet for several minutes, with Tony murmuring soft, soothing words and pressing gentle kisses along Steve's forehead and temple until he finally was able to release some of the iron grip on his body and attempt to relax.

"There you go, honey," Tony whispered. "It's all right, you're safe now."

Steve sucked in a hard, shuddering breath as he lifted his head, meeting Tony's worried brown eyes that were bathed in the glow of the dim blue lights lining the perimeter of their bedroom. Tony had had the lights installed before they arrived at the Compound for the summer, after Steve confessed that he could no longer sleep in the complete darkness. With the soft glow of Tony's arc reactor now gone, the room was just too dark at night otherwise.

"I'm so sorry I woke you, mo grá," he mumbled. "I'm—I don't know—I just can't seem to—"

"Honey, just _stop,_" Tony cut in. "You keep thinking that you're supposed to be immune to trauma or something because you're Captain America, super soldier and leader of the Avengers, but when it comes down to it, you're just as human as the rest of us." His full lips curved into a soft smirk, his brown eyes twinkling. "Well, maybe you're a bit better-looking than the rest of us, I mean, 'cause _damn_, babe, have you looked at yourself in the mirror lately? But having abs of steel and arms strong enough to lift the Quinjet still doesn't disqualify you from nightmares, as not-awesome as that is. And, if I do say so, you're usually so concerned about everyone else's mental health that you tend to forget about your own."

Steve huffed, frowning at his husband even as he knew he was right. Steve was a huge proponent of making sure that his teammates stayed as healthy as possible, and that included regular sessions with Sam Wilson, their resident counselor. But like Tony said, Steve often had plenty of excuses to not make or keep his own appointments with Sam. He usually tried to brush it off, saying that he and Sam's frequent morning runs together were good enough as they often discussed various things related to the team. But Steve also knew that if Tony tried to use a similar excuse on Steve, there'd be no way that Steve would let it fly.

It was the perfect example of, 'do as I say, not as I do'.

Tony pressed their foreheads together, cupping Steve's face in his hands. "You know I'm not trying to nag you, babe, 'cause you know I just don't do that. But honey, we gotta do something about this." He paused, pressing a soft kiss to Steve's forehead. "This demon of yours seems to be of the particularly vile type, and I'm starting to think that it's not one you can fight on your own."

"Yes, it is," Steve said, way too fast when Tony frowned. "I can, I just… once we can root out where the rest of HYDRA is hiding and take 'em down, and once that legislation is rejected for good, and once—"

"And once, and once, and once," Tony cut in. "Honey, can you even hear yourself? And I thought I held the title for the best excuse-maker on the team, and you know I don't usually like to admit stuff like that."

Steve attempted a smile. "No, I'm pretty sure that honour goes to Clint. In fact, I think he would insist on it."

"Well, yeah, you may have a point there, but—"

"It's okay, Tony," Steve said. "I'll be all right… eventually. I just…" He paused, looking up at Tony through his lashes. "Do you think we could go check on Peter? I know JARVIS said he's okay, and I promise I won't wake him up, but… I just—I just wanna see him with my own eyes, so—"

He was silenced by Tony's lips, pressing against his in a kiss meant to convey such a wide multitude of things that tears sprang to Steve's eyes. Love, acceptance, and understanding were just a few of the underlying aspects that Steve was able to take from Tony's simple, three-second kiss, not to mention the deep intimacy that defined every single one of their touches.

For how different Steve and Tony were, they were very much alike in all of the ways that mattered most, not the least of which was their absolute devotion to their son. If anyone could understand Steve's need to physically see for himself that Peter was all right, it was Tony.

Wordlessly, Tony pecked Steve's lips again and crawled off the bed, grabbing their discarded t-shirts from the floor and handing Steve his. Then he took Steve's hand, leading them down the hallway towards Peter's bedroom.

Just as JARVIS had reported, Peter appeared to be sleeping peacefully, clutching the stuffed polar bear that Tony had gotten for him as a replacement for the one he had lost when their Malibu home was destroyed. His sweet, round face was relaxed with his lips in a slight pout, something both Tony and Steve had always thought was absolutely precious.

Carefully Steve leaned over him, brushing the mass of thick brown curls off his forehead before gently kissing him, the feel of Peter's slightly cool skin reassuring him that yes, he was in fact all right.

At least for now.

Peter stirred slightly then, breathing in deeply as he opened one sleepy eye, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion as he focused in on Steve.

"'S all right, Papa?" he murmured.

"Yeah, little guy, everything's all right," Steve whispered as he kissed him again. "Go on back to sleep now, okay?"

"Mmm. Love you," Peter mumbled as his eye closed again. Steve's heart swelled to the point of bursting then Peter smacked his lips, his arms tightening around his polar bear.

"I love you too, little guy. Sleep well."

_He's okay, _Steve thought. _He's not in a coma anymore, he's just sleeping, and tomorrow he'll wake up and we'll make breakfast together and everything'll be fine._

_Everything will be fine._

_Won't it?_

Tony reached for Steve's hand as soon as he backed away from Peter's bed, leading him silently back to their bedroom. Then he crawled back up onto the bed and opened his arms, and Steve didn't hesitate for one second to dive right into them, tucking his head securely under Tony's chin. He breathed in deeply, inhaling the delicious scent of his husband, allowing it to envelope him like a warm blanket. Tony's arms were like a sanctuary, the one place where Steve knew without a doubt that it was okay to let down his guard and allow his fears to come to the surface, however temporarily.

Where he always knew he was _safe._

"Are you wanting to go back to sleep now, babe? You still seem like you're stuck inside your own head a bit," Tony asked gently after a few moments of silence.

"No, I don't," Steve said, again without thinking. Because if he was completely honest with himself, now that they both were fully awake Steve knew there was no way he'd be able to get back to sleep with the current state of his mind. It had been an easy summer up at the Compound, mainly at Steve's insistence after the incident at the bunker and Tony and Peter's prolonged hospital stays, and the three of them had enjoyed it to its fullest extent. Lazy mornings spent in their kitchen over breakfast, plenty of fishing and waterskiing at the lake, pickup football games with the rest of the team between training sessions, and bonfires at night where they roasted marshmallows and told ghost stories. Or in Clint's case, zombie stories.

It had truly been a wonderful summer.

At least, aside from the nightmares that had plagued him almost every single night.

"No, I don't," Steve repeated, a bit more emphatically as he lifted his head and cupped Tony's face, bringing their lips together in a slow, deep kiss. Tony let out a whimper as Steve's tongue plundered his mouth, one hand gliding down the length of Tony's back to slip underneath the hem of his t-shirt.

"All right," Tony breathed against Steve's lips once they broke apart. "So, I'm getting the impression that you feel pretty strongly about this?"

Instead of answering Steve drew Tony closer, placing him squarely in his lap and capturing his lips again. His arms wound around Tony's waist, pressing him against him as Tony's hands flew to Steve's hair, holding his head in place.

"Does that answer your question?" Steve asked, panting as he pressed their foreheads together. "You're right, mo grá, I am stuck in my own head, and I just need—right now I need—I just need _you,_ sweetheart. Just you."

Tony sighed as he pulled back, looking deeply into Steve's eyes. "You know this'll just be another temporary fix though, right? I mean, don't get me wrong, I am completely, like _completely,_ on board with getting naked with you right now, but honey… even mind-blowing sex won't get rid of the problem. It'll just… kinda mask it for awhile."

Steve grunted as he kissed him again, settling back on the bed with Tony on top of him and drawing his t-shirt up over his head.

"Please, sweetheart," Steve murmured when Tony propped himself up, staring at him with lust-blown eyes still laced with concern. "Please… I don't wanna think right now. I just wanna feel. Please—"

"Shh, babe, it's okay. I've got you," Tony whispered, brushing his fingertips across Steve's lips. He tugged Steve's t-shirt free, then settled himself over him again, grinding his hips down so deliciously that Steve moaned. "Tell me what you want, hot stuff."

Steve's belly gave a nervous swoop as he glided his hands down the smooth skin of Tony's back to his still-clothed ass, pressing him against him. He knew Tony would gladly give him anything he asked for, but it was still sometimes difficult for him to be specific, especially when it came to sex.

"I'd like for you to have me tonight," he said, his voice trembling. "If—if that's okay."

Tony's lips twitched into a rather salacious grin. "Oh, really? That's a rather unusual request, _Captain,_ are you sure?"

Instead of responding Steve rolled his hips, pressing Tony down at the same time and delighting in the gasp he pulled from his throat. Tony wasn't wrong that it was an unusual request. In fact, they had only done it that way a handful of times in the almost three years that they had been together. Steve usually preferred to be in control, and Tony knew it. He loved having Tony writhing and panting beneath him, and Tony was always more than willing to allow Steve that control because he himself didn't need it.

But other times, like this night, Steve just wanted—no, _needed_—Tony to take care of him. And he also knew that Tony would do so eagerly, because he loved Steve beyond reason.

Just as Steve loved him.

"Please," Steve said, begging now. "I just need—need to forget for awhile, sweetheart. Need to empty my mind and just _feel."_

Tony's beautiful eyes were glassy as he nodded, dipping his head to brush his lips across Steve in a soft kiss. "It's okay, baby," he whispered. "I understand."

And with that, Steve felt his entire body relax, because of _course_ Tony understood. No one understood fighting demons better than Tony.

And no one could ever take care of him better than Tony.

And as Tony's hands and lips slid and kissed and nibbled across the whole of Steve's body, as he touched him with such tenderness and care as he prepared him, and as he held Steve's gaze with such intensity as he took him, Steve was finally able to once again beat down the demon that haunted him, locking it back into its cage where it belonged.

At least, until it managed to break free again.

* * *

Tony let out a chuckle from the driver's seat of their speedboat, shaking his head as he watched Peter's fumbling attempts to reattach the waterski to his left foot while still bobbing up and down in the lake about five metres from their dock. He and Steve had been skiing double for most of the afternoon, and Steve was now attempting to teach him how to drop a ski.

Attempts that weren't yet going quite the way that he had planned as of yet. Peter was an immensely graceful boy most of the time, well on his way to mastering ballet with Natasha and managing flying through the air on his webs as easily as if he'd been doing so his entire life. But his grace during ballet and in the air apparently hadn't exactly translated to the water yet.

Or, at least not while on only one waterski. He had gotten the hang of two skis pretty quickly, but trying to ski on a single was still giving him trouble.

"Okay, Papa, I think I've got it," Peter said with only a touch of irritation. "Let's go again."

"Are you sure, little guy?" Steve asked. "We've been at this for almost three hours now, you have to be getting tired."

"More like starving," Peter answered with wide eyes. "But I wanna try one more time first. Please?"

Steve glanced up at Tony, quirking an eyebrow in question that Tony almost completely missed because he was too busy staring in awe at his drop-dead gorgeous husband. With his sun-bleached blond hair, broad shoulders, strong arms, and ever-so-slightly tanned skin that was currently sprinkled with water droplets from the lake, Steve was every bit the living, breathing image of the most erotic human Tony could ever conjure up in his mind or anywhere else.

And somehow, Tony had managed to get him to fall in love with him.

Talk about lucky.

"Tony?" Steve asked. "That okay with you?"

"Huh?" Tony said, snapping his gaping jaw closed. "Um… yeah, honey. I'm good."

"Course he's good," Peter mumbled, barely loud enough for Tony to hear. "More time for him to stare at Papa with no shirt on."

Steve grinned then, a wide, toothy grin showing all of his perfect white teeth, and Tony literally felt his heart skip a beat.

Damn, Tony's husband was _gorgeous!_

"Yeah, but if I remember correctly, _child,_ I don't require your permission to ogle my husband," Tony shot back. "In fact, I'm pretty sure I don't even need his."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Peter grumbled. "But I'm ready now, so can we please get going? I wanna do this."

"Sure thing, buddy," answered Tony. He shot Steve one more furtive glance, delighting in the sly wink that Steve shot right back at him as he gave Peter's life jacket a quick once-over.

"All right, little guy, just try and remember that once you drop your ski, your first instinct is gonna be to lean towards that side, and that's what's causing you to fall. So try and put most of your weight on the other side before you drop the ski, okay? That'll help you keep your balance once you're just on one."

"Uh huh, got it," Peter said. He crouched down into the water, the tips of his skis poking up on either side of his rope. "I'm ready, Dad."

"I'm ready too, Tony," Steve said as he too leaned back in the water. "One more run just like last time."

"Gotcha, babe." Turning in his seat, Tony grabbed hold of both the steering wheel and the engine lever. "Here we go!"

The boat took off with a burst of speed, strong enough to pull both Steve and Peter up onto their skis in only a few seconds. Tony sighed happily as he glanced in the rearview mirror and saw the huge smile lighting up Peter's face. Like Steve, Peter had been having a pretty tough time with nightmares and flashbacks over the summer—and really, who could blame him?—so seeing him so obviously enjoying himself gave Tony at least some measure of peace that he would somehow be okay.

Eventually.

Tony increased the speed as he eased out of the first turn in their oval-shaped course, laughing as Peter ducked under Steve's rope and crossed over to his side. He was so enthralled with watching his boys that he didn't notice right away that the air temperature had suddenly dropped about ten degrees until they were rounding the second turn, heading back towards the dock where Peter was supposed to drop his ski.

_What the hell? _Tony thought as a violent shiver raced down his spine. He glanced behind him, his heart flipping in his chest as he saw that Peter was already shaking on his skis. He was already wearing a wetsuit designed for much cooler water due to his inability to regulate his own body temp, but the air temp had been close to thirty degrees when they started, and it now felt closer to fifteen degrees.

And it was continuing to drop like a rock.

A flash of movement along the far right side of the lake caught the corner of Tony's eye then—either a person or an animal, he wasn't quite sure—drawing his gaze away from Peter just long enough to miss him hitting the surface of the water so hard that the impact echoed across the lake. Tony cried out in panic as Peter promptly disappeared beneath the rippling water, with Steve releasing his rope only a split-second later to dive in after him. Tony immediately spun the boat around, nearly capsizing it when an eerie, ear-splitting cracking noise suddenly cut through the air, raising all of the hair on the back of his neck.

Because if he hadn't known better, Tony would've thought that it sounded like _ice, _spreading across the lake like a massive layer of glass to trap his boys beneath the surface.

It was the beginning of August; there was no way there could be ice on the lake.

But impossible or not, that's exactly what was happening.

"Steve, where is he?" Tony cried, revving the boat's engine as high as it would go, attempting to drive it through the ice that now looked to be at least a half a metre thick. He managed to get within about ten metres of where his boys had gone under when a split suddenly appeared and Peter was tossed onto the surface, choking and sputtering and shivering as he slid across the slippery ice, struggling to find a handhold.

"D-daddy!" stammered Peter as he scrambled to his hands and knees, crawling back towards the rapidly disappearing hole and pounding on the ice with his fists. "P-papa's s-stuck, we g-gotta g-get him out!"

Jumping from the now-useless boat, Tony pulled out his phone as he half-ran, half-slid across the frozen expanse to reach Peter, his knuckles already bruised and bloodied from beating against the now-solid ice.

"D-daddy, P-papa's down there, we g-gotta g-get him out!" Peter cried, his lips as blue as his papa's uniform as he continued to punch against the ice, leaving smears of blood all along the thick cracks that had formed. Tony grabbed onto his wrists, struggling to get Peter to stop before he could cause any further damage.

"Pete, you gotta stop that, buddy, your hands are all busted up!" Tony cried, cursing his son's super-strength when Peter nearly threw him off of him. He was finally able to wrap Peter in his arms, gasping in horror as he looked down and saw Steve pinned in place by the still-thickening ice, his striking blue eyes radiating such immense terror that Tony's heart nearly stopped.

Being immobilised in ice and left to suffocate, it was one of Steve's absolute worst fears coming to life.

"D-daddy, we c-can't l-let him d-die!" Peter sobbed into Tony's shoulder. "We gotta get him out!"

"We're gonna get him out, Pete, don't you worry," Tony stated. "JARVIS—!"

"I have already alerted the rest of the team, sir, and Mr Wilson is inbound to your location," JARVIS cut in. "As is the Mark thirty-five armour. However, be advised that the armour is not yet fully equipped with your standard armament."

"Okay, but put a boost on it, will ya, J, Steve is trapped!" Tony snapped, pounding on the ice once with his own fist to no avail. "And send out the reconnaissance suits too, yeah? I wanna see who or what the hell managed to cause this! No one's allowed in or out of the Compound until we find 'em!"

"Yes, sir."

Peter was shivering so violently that he was nearly vibrating out of his skin, so Tony rubbed his palms up and down his back as he held onto Steve's terrified gaze, barely able to risk blinking in the fear that Steve would just up and disappear.

"Eyes on me, soldier. Don't you dare look away, you got that?" he said as firmly as he could muster, his breaths coming out in little puffs of white in the frigid air. He really had no idea if Steve could hear him or not, but he also knew that Steve had become something of an expert on reading lips lately with Clint's help, so Tony knew that if he was still conscious that he could at least see what he was saying.

"Goddamnit, JARVIS, what the hell's taking so long!" Tony snapped just as his frozen ears picked up the sound of his suit flying towards them, followed by the tell-tale _whoosh_ of Sam's Falcon wings. He got to his feet, tucking Peter into a ball right next to him as the armour wrapped around his body.

"Sam, get Pete outta here," Tony commanded as soon as Sam landed next to Tony, a wool blanket clutched in his hands. "And call Barton, we need those explosive arrows of his."

"He's already on his way, Tony," Sam replied. He quickly wrapped the blanket around Peter, mindful of his likely broken hands as he gathered him into his arms. "Bruce's already got a therapeutic bath running for Peter and Nat's coordinating the lockdown."

Tony gave a rapid nod. "Make sure to call Helen Cho too, pretty sure that Pete messed up his hands."

"Bruce already did." Sam tucked Peter's covered head under his chin, readying his wings for takeoff as he glanced down at Steve. "You get him out, yeah?"

"Not leaving here until I do," Tony said firmly. He cupped his son's greyishly pale face, planting a quick kiss to his forehead. "Go with Uncle Sam now, buddy, he'll take care of you."

A single tear rolled down Peter's cheek, freezing in place on his upper lip as he nodded.

"That's my boy." As soon as Sam took off Tony dropped to his knees and fired up his laser, attempting to burn through the ice and cursing when it didn't seem to want to melt fast enough for his taste. He didn't have any missiles available, and while the repulsors were another option, he suspected that the force required to break through the very thick ice could possibly injure Steve, and Tony was too afraid to risk it.

Yet another thing to tweak with his armour.

"JARVIS, make a note for me to come up with a super-ice-melting setting for the lasers."

"Noted, sir."

"C'mon, baby, stay with me," he ordered. Steve's eyes were still open, but Tony couldn't tell if it was because he was still awake or they were just frozen in place. "JARVIS, where the hell is Barton?"

"Incoming," came Clint's voice over the comm. Not three seconds later he dropped down from the arms of one of Tony's reconnaissance suits about ten metres away, unsheathing an arrow before he'd even skidded to a halt. "Might wanna step back there, Tony."

"No way in hell," Tony shot back. "The suit can take it and I'm not leaving him."

Clint frowned as he drew back his bow, aiming the arrow about half a metre from Steve's head. "All right, if you say so."

The tip of the arrow penetrated the ice only about a centimetre or so, a testament to its strength. Tony braced himself as best he could, but the resulting shockwave was still strong enough to knock him sideways, sending him skidding across the surface as Clint leapt forward to start removing debris.

"Son of a bitch!" Clint grunted as he stepped back to draw another arrow, aiming at the same spot. "This is like some kinda souped up vibranium ice or something!"

"Just get him the hell outta there!" Tony cried. "Even Steve can't hold his breath forever!"

"Stand back, Tony!" Clint ordered just before he fired the arrow, landing it directly into one of the splits left behind from the first. Tony braced himself as it exploded, a hair-raising _crack_ echoing across the frozen lake as the split widened, but only barely.

"What the fuck is this shit made of?" Clint yelled.

"I don't know, but we don't have time to find out," Tony said through his rising panic. He powered up his right repulsor, aiming it directly at the crack that was already starting to fill in. "JARVIS, give me forty-eight percent power and find me the weakest spot on that crack right now!"

A split second later Tony's repulsor fired, which finally caused the crack to open about a third of a metre, just barely wide enough for Steve to fit through.

"Steve!" Tony shrieked, lunging forward towards the hole. He plunged his armoured hand down into the icy water, grabbing onto the first part of Steve that he could reach, which happened to be his shoulder. He immediately yanked him up and out, barely managing to get his entire body onto the surface before the hole started to close.

"Steve? C'mon, honey, talk to me!" Tony said frantically, patting Steve's cheek as his helmet retracted. He quickly brushed Steve's sopping wet hair from his eyes before draping his upper body over his arm, pounding his palm against Steve's back. Steve sputtered with each blow, finally coughing up at least two litres of water. "That's it, honey, I've got you. Get it all out."

"T-Tony! Where's—?" Steve choked out as he grabbed onto Tony's arms, the sheer terror in his voice and eyes hitting Tony like a blast to the chest. He was shivering violently, and Tony drew him close, hoping the reactor powering his suit would help warm him a bit. "T-Tony, where is he? Where's P-Peter?"

"Shh, honey, Pete's okay, he's with Sam and Bruce already back at the apartment. They're taking care of him, so now we gotta take care of you." Carefully Tony got to his feet, trying to support Steve on his badly shaking legs. "JARVIS?"

"Already on it, sir," JARVIS replied. Tony barely had a chance to get his helmet back in place and tuck Steve close before the suit took off towards the main building, with Tony clinging so tightly to Steve's slippery body that he could already see bruises forming beneath his pale skin.

JARVIS piloted the suit directly through their main living quarters and into Peter's bathroom, where the huge soaking bathtub was filled to the brim with warm water. Natasha was sitting inside the tub in her ballet clothes with a shivering Peter wrapped in her arms, her fingers stroking his hair and his head resting on her shoulder while Helen Cho examined his bruised and bloodied knuckles with a critical eye.

"Get Captain Rogers in the water right now, Tony," Helen commanded without even looking up. "How long was he submerged?"

"Seemed like forever, but it was probably about three or four minutes." He started to lift Steve into the water, halting when Steve cried out in pain and fear as soon as it splashed against him. "Is it supposed to hurt him?"

"That's normal, Tony," Bruce said from the opposite side of the tub, preparing what appeared to be a splint for Peter's hand. "Even lukewarm water will feel uncomfortably hot at first against frozen skin, but he needs to get in there as soon as possible."

"Yeah, I'm not sure how much of it is just the temp though," Tony muttered under his breath. He pressed his lips to Steve's cheek by his ear, whispering, "Gotta get you in there, babe. Doctor's orders, okay?"

Steve's frozen fingers were so tightly wrapped around Tony's gauntlets that he had managed to dent the metal. "S-stay with m-me!" he gasped. "P-please, d-don't l-leave me alone!"

"I'm not gonna leave you alone, honey," Tony said firmly. "Not for one single second, okay? Don't you even think about it."

He waited until Steve gave a nod, then lowered him slowly into the water, his heart cracking with every tiny whimper and gasp that Steve made until he was fully submersed. As soon as he was in up to his neck Tony stepped out of his armour and slid in next to him, pulling him onto his lap.

"Body heat is a good thing at this point as well, Tony," Bruce said, now assisting Helen as she carefully wrapped Peter's right hand in the splint. "In a few minutes I'll increase the temperature of the water; we don't want to bring their body temps up too quickly or they can go into shock."

"Gotcha," whispered Tony. He tucked Steve's forehead against his neck and tipped his head back against the side of the tub, tears of anger and fear prickling his eyes.

_What the hell managed to cause all of this, and why didn't I see it coming?_

_I need to be doing more._

They remained in the tub for almost three hours, with Bruce slowly increasing the water's temperature until both Peter and Steve managed to stop shivering. The whole time the four of them barely moved, with Peter clinging to his Auntie Nat like a baby koala and eventually falling asleep once his hands were wrapped, while Tony held onto Steve, who seemed to be absolutely shell-shocked, his body as rigid as an iron rod and his fingernails digging into the skin of Tony's neck and shoulders. Tony trailed his fingers through Steve's hair and murmured soothing words, his heart thudding against his ribcage as he exchanged occasional furtive glances with Natasha, who looked just as frightened and angry as he was.

_What if the rest of the team hadn't been there?_ Tony thought. _What if it'd just been the three of us?_

He likely would've been able to free Steve from the ice eventually, but would Steve have survived? Especially if he'd had to get Peter indoors first?

Tony had no idea. All he knew was that the thought of losing him was too painful to even contemplate.

_This can never happen again._

_I need to make sure of it._

Bruce had just finished rechecking Peter's temperature when there was a loud knock on the bathroom door.

"Come in?" Tony said, pursing his lips when Clint poked his head around the door.

"Is it safe?" Clint asked. "Nobody's naked or anything, right?"

"Oh Christ, Barton, you're just unbelievable," grumbled Tony as Clint stepped inside the bathroom, followed by Bucky and Sam. "Did you guys manage to find anything?"

"No, not a goddamn thing," Sam said angrily. "I was up there sweeping the skies while Clint and Bucky covered the entire perimeter of the lake, but we didn't find anything out of the ordinary and neither did the reconnaissance suits. Plus, all the ice is completely gone now and the air temp's back to normal, so it's like it never even happened."

Tony gritted his teeth. He should've known they wouldn't find anything, 'cause that would just be far too easy. But still…

"Okay, but how is that possible?" he demanded. "I fucking _saw_ something hidden in the treeline along the side of the lake right before Pete got pulled under, so how in the _hell_ could it have gotten off the property before the lockdown?"

"We don't know, Tony, none of it makes any sense," said Clint. "You're sure it wasn't just an animal of some kind?"

"Hell no!" shouted Tony, wincing when Steve startled in his arms. "There's no way I can be sure, because a split-second later I saw that my kid had just up and disappeared! But you cannot tell me that what happened out there was just some kind of natural phenomenon, 'cause that's just a bunch of bullshit!"

"It wasn't," Steve answered, low and gravelly. He lifted his head, clearing his throat as he glanced over at Peter, his lower lip wobbling slightly as he noticed Bucky kneeling next to him, gently patting his head. "That ice wasn't… natural. It was too strong and spread way too quickly. It was almost like it was weaponized, meant to disable and destroy like the chemical weapons they used during the wars."

Tony's heart lurched at Steve's tone, detached and clinical like his Captain's voice but even more robotic, like he had somehow locked all of his emotions into a box and buried it.

"Honey, you don't have to—"

"So whatever or whoever it was that caused this either managed to evade our methods of detection, or the threat came from somewhere within the Compound," Steve continued. "And if that's the case, then we need to think about re-vetting the former SHIELD personnel that are assigned here."

Clint's throat bobbed as he swallowed. "I've already spoken to Fury about it, Cap, and his opinion was the exact same as yours."

"What, so he's thinking that Killian or Stane somehow managed to buy off some of our guys before they kicked the bucket?" Tony asked, incredulous. "Really?"

"It's not out of the realm of possibility, Tony," answered Steve. "Stane and Killian did manage to break into the Tower, so it's entirely possible that they were able to plant spies here as well. Do we know for sure if the sceptre is still contained?"

"Yeah, that's one of the first things I checked on, Cap," replied Clint. "It's been visually accounted for in its vault, and according to JARVIS the vault hadn't been opened since the last time Bruce opened it, which was six days ago."

"And we're sure that no one could've overridden the vault locks?" Steve asked.

"I am absolutely certain, Captain," JARVIS said firmly. "My upgraded systems have detected no anomalies since the incident at the Tower."

A sharp stab of guilt pierced Tony's chest at JARVIS's words. It was completely inexcusable that someone other than himself or Peter had been able to override the elaborate security systems at the Tower, and it had haunted him ever since they'd left the hospital down in Miami following the battle in the HYDRA bunker. In fact, developing new and improved security measures had been frequently keeping Tony up at night since then, in-between battling Steve and Peter's nightmares. He had already uploaded the initial program of something he was calling the Iron Legion into his old suits, and in fact had also begun building new unmanned suits for the exact purpose of extra security should it become necessary.

But it obviously wasn't yet enough, especially if this afternoon was any indication. Threats could be coming at them from any direction, not the least of which was from outside of Earth itself, and he needed to do all that he could to stave them off.

"All right," Tony said. "JARVIS?"

"At your service, sir."

"As of right now, no one other than the team and Pete have full access to the Compound's facilities, understand? I want all security codes for any personnel formerly working for SHIELD canceled until they can be cleared to mine and Steve's satisfaction. Oh, and tell Fury he's in charge of the re-vetting, none of us have the time for it. Make him do his own damn spy work for a change."

"Very good, sir."

"Oohh, Fury's not gonna like that," warned Clint.

"Right now I don't give a shit what he likes and doesn't like, okay Barton?" Tony snapped. "If I'm gonna keep footing the bill for all of his goddamn toys around here, then he's just gonna have to deal with it."

Clint raised his eyebrows. "Yeah, yeah, all right. And we'll all obviously keep our eyes peeled, so—"

"That sounds good, guys," Steve cut in. "Thank you."

A chorus of murmurs fluttered around the room as the three men turned to leave, with Bucky lingering behind.

"Петр is gonna be all right, isn't he?" he asked Bruce.

"His temp is climbing back up, it's just taking awhile," Bruce replied. "Since he can't regulate his body temp well the icy water dropped it really low really fast, but yeah, he'll be all right."

Bucky's nostrils flared in anger. "And his hands?"

Bruce gave a sigh. "He managed to break three of the fingers on his right hand and two on the left, plus his knuckles are bruised all to hell. We've got him splinted up, and with his healing factor they should all heal just fine in a few days. It was good that Tony stopped him when he did though, you don't wanna mess around with the hands too much. Too many bones to get displaced."

"He's gonna be all right, Bucky," said Steve. "You know Peter, he'll bounce back like he always does."

Steve's words, meant to offer comfort to his distressed friend, still hit Tony as hard as a sledgehammer.

_He'll bounce back, like he always does._

_But why the hell should he have to? When is it ever gonna just stop?_

"All right," said Bucky. "Then I guess I'll see him once he wakes up."

"He's been asleep for awhile now, so I'm sure he'll be starving soon enough," said Tony. "As soon as Bruce gives us the okay we'll get him out, yeah?"

"Большое спасибо," Bucky said with a nod. Then he gave Peter's head a final pat and excited the bathroom.

"Natasha, you have to be getting tired and hungry," Steve said as soon as the door latched closed. "And Bruce, you as well. Why don't you let me take Peter now so you guys can get some rest?"

Natasha's eyes flicked to Tony in alarm. "I'm all right, Steve, really. You're not exactly a hundred percent yourself yet, so you don't need to worry about—"

"I'd just like to take him, please," Steve insisted. He shifted so he was leaning against the back of the tub, holding his arms out for Peter. "Please."

"Honey, Bruce doesn't even know if your temp's up high enough yet, so—"

"Steve's temp is fine now, Tony," Bruce interrupted, quirking a sheepish eyebrow when Tony shot him a glare. "And Peter's almost there, shouldn't be too much longer, so… if Steve's feeling up to it, it's okay with me."

At Tony's reluctant nod, Natasha scooted forward, allowing Steve to curl his arms around their sleeping son. Peter was apparently so out of it that he barely even wiggled as Steve situated him on his lap, burying his nose into their son's hair and holding him as if he thought it might be the last time.

"Right," said Natasha after a short pause. "Then I guess we'll go see if Sam's gonna make anything for dinner."

Tony caught her hand before she could exit the tub. "Thank you, Nat," he said quietly, with as much sincerity as he could muster. "Pete is damn lucky to have you."

Natasha's grey eyes were glassy as she wrapped a large towel over her soaking wet clothes. "You don't need to thank me, Tony. Peter's the closest I'll ever get to having my own child, so… you'll never need to thank me for taking care of him."

A lump rose in Tony's throat as he watched Natasha go, remembering how suspicious he had been of her when he first met her. She came off as such a badass, tough-as-nails woman, which worked very well in fights and with her Black Widow alter-ego, but when it came down to it, she was just as soft and loving with Peter as any mother could ever be.

And not that Peter needed a mother. Both Tony and Steve had certain qualities that he supposed could be considered mother-like, so it wasn't like Peter was missing out on anything. But Tony also knew that sometimes it was just nice for Peter to have a female perspective and influence in a family otherwise full of men.

"You can get out now too, sweetheart, if you're tired," Steve said once Natasha and Bruce were gone. "I'll stay with him."

Tony's eyes narrowed in surprise. "You're joking, right? You actually think I'm gonna leave the two of you alone after what happened?"

Steve pursed his lips, hugging Peter even tighter. "I'm fine, Tony, and—"

"Don't you dare give me that!" Tony snapped, wincing when Peter flinched in Steve's arms. "You got trapped in ice and almost _drowned_ a few hours ago, so don't you try and tell me that you're just fine all of a sudden, because there's no way in hell that's possible!"

"Tony—"

"_No!"_ Tony yelled, or rather hissed since he couldn't yell. He cupped Steve's cheek in one hand, turning him so he could see his tortured blue eyes. This one was going to haunt Steve for a long, long time, Tony could _see _it.

"You don't have to be Captain America with me, and you know it. Honey, I could _feel _how scared you were when you were trapped down there! Your eyes are completely incapable of lying, and they were screaming volumes at me the whole time, so don't you dare try and insult me now by trying to tell me that you're fine!"

A pregnant pause settled over the bathroom as Steve attempted to glare at Tony, his lower lip starting to shake after about only three seconds.

"Tony—!" Steve cried as the tears started to flow, dripping into Peter's hair. "Tony, what if—what if I _hadn't—_if I hadn't been able to—"

"Hey," Tony murmured, sliding his fingertips over Steve's lips. "But you did, okay? Pete's gonna be okay, Bruce and Helen both said so. You caught him, honey. You caught him before he could fall."

_But then I almost didn't catch you, and that can't happen again._

Steve huffed, his upper body shaking as he tried to hold back his sobs. He pressed a kiss to the top of Peter's head, then rested his cheek there, squeezing Peter so tightly that he let out a soft grunt. "This time, maybe," he whispered between clenched teeth. "But—but what about—what about the _next_ time, and the next time, and the next—"

"Shh," whispered Tony. "Just… please, stop." He pressed his lips to Steve's forehead, tilting his chin up to look at him. "There doesn't have to be a next time, okay? I've got some plans that I'm gonna get working on ASAP that should prevent something like this from ever happening again, so—"

"You mean the Iron Legion?" Steve asked, sniffing.

"Yeah, that's part of it, although the suits are a bit bulky for continuous reconnaissance so I'll have to come up with something else too, but they're at least a start. I got 'em out there right now, keeping an eye on things."

Steve let out a heavy sigh, tipping his head back against the tub. "I hate that it's come to this. How can we have any semblance of a normal life if we're to the point where we need reconnaissance over our own home? Peter deserves better than this, Tony. We all do."

"I know, babe. It'll only be until we can figure out what the hell happened."

_Or at least until all the goddamn super-villains are gone._

"And we will figure it out, 'cause it's us, and that's what we do," Tony added. "Right?"

"Us," Steve whispered as he curled one arm around Tony's waist, pulling him against him and tucking Tony's head on his shoulder. "Together. That's how we're best."

"Damn right, babe," Tony said firmly. "Just like how we'll always be."

_And we will always be, no matter what. And if it takes me creating an army of weaponized drones in order to keep our home safe, then that's what I'll do._

_Whatever it takes._

* * *

"That really sucks that your dad canceled your birthday party," Ned lamented, his round face filling the screen of Peter's tablet. "Why do you guys always have to have these security breaches when something important's supposed to happen? My parents were really looking forward to coming up to the Compound again!"

Peter frowned, trying to shift on his bed without using his still-healing hands. The past three days had been some of the most annoying and embarrassing days of his life without the proper use of his hands, but x-rays earlier that morning had showed that his index fingers weren't completely healed yet so he was still stuck wearing the splints, and which also meant that he hadn't been able to participate in the training sessions with the team either. Helen had told Dad and Papa that it would likely only be another couple of days, but that was two more days of him not being able to even use the bathroom by himself, much less dress or feed himself, and Peter was already beyond over it.

Plus, since the training exercises were the only chances that he had to be Spider-Man at the moment, he really, really missed them.

"Yeah, I know, but Dad's got us on a complete lock-down right now. None of the people here can even leave until the new security systems are in place, so…" Peter didn't add that three people had already been arrested and removed from the Compound's premises due to suspicious activity on Papa's orders. That information would only invite more questions for which they still had no decent answers.

"That's just so weird that your security systems were breached again, don't you think?" asked Ned. "I mean, if it was the same space aliens that attacked New York that one time, you would think that they would've attacked something more important, right? Like the White House or the Pentagon or something? Or do you think it's just 'cause they're still holding a grudge?"

"No, don't think that was it," Peter answered. "No one here thinks it was the space aliens anyway. Or at least not the same ones."

"Mmm," said Ned. He leaned closer to his screen, lowering his voice. "The Daily Bugle says all these security breach rumours are just a big scam to make the Avengers look better because of that anti-vigilante legislation that got shot down. I'm not sure how many people actually believe that, because, I mean, you gotta look at the source, but—"

"That legislation was shot down for a very good reason," Peter said firmly, trying to stamp down his guilt. "The Avengers are not vigilantes."

Ned shot Peter one of his _duh_ looks. "I already know that, Peter, just like anyone with half a brain knows that. Besides, it's not like Captain America could be corrupted anyway, right?"

"Hell no, he couldn't!" snapped Peter. "But even without Captain America, Papa would still be a good person. Captain America isn't only who he is, just like Iron Man's not only who Dad is, and I really wish the news people could remember that! My dads are real people, just like they are."

"Hey, you don't need to yell at me, you know," Ned said with wide eyes. "I already know all this."

Peter's shoulders sagged as he nodded. "I know, and I'm sorry, okay? I was really looking forward to my birthday party too, so… I guess I'm in a bit of a bad mood." He instinctively raised his right hand to scratch at his nose, jumping at Ned's sharp intake of breath.

"What the hell'd you do to your hand?"

"Nothing," Peter said quickly as his face flushed hot. "Just… I fell when I was waterskiing and sprained a couple of my fingers. It's nothing."

Ned winced, then immediately busted out laughing. "Okay, ouch, that sucks, but now I'm trying to imagine you on waterskis, and I just _can't."_

"Yeah, well, I don't think I'll be doing it again anytime soon," muttered Peter with a huff. _Especially since Papa's back to being afraid of the water again._

Not that Peter could blame him, of course, but it still made him sad. Of all the things that had to happen to Papa, being frozen in ice again was probably one of the worst.

"So, you seen anyone else lately?" Peter asked.

"Nah, not too much," answered Ned. "Flash got a new car for his sixteenth birthday, he keeps posting all these dramatic instagram stories bragging about it."

"Oh, great. 'Cause that won't make him any less insufferable," grumbled Peter. While he had no doubt that Dad would get him his own car once he turned sixteen next year, Flash never seemed to waste an opportunity to remind Peter that he was both bigger than him and an entire year older.

"Probably not," agreed Ned. "It is a pretty cool car though, even if I'd never admit it to his face. Oh, and my mom found something out the other day at one of her book clubs. Apparently there's a new deputy police chief in our area, and he's got a daughter who'll be starting at Midtown in our class." He paused dramatically, leaning in closer. "And according to my mom's friend, this girl's supposedly even smarter than you."

Peter's eyebrows shot up, then knitted together into a frown. "Hmph. Well, I'll believe that when I see it," he said, rather impudently. Silly or not, Peter was proud of being the smartest person in his class, and was not at all excited about the prospect of having that challenged.

"Yeah, I'm sure we will," Ned said with a grin. "Other than that though, it's been pretty boring around here. I was really looking forward to coming up to the Compound."

Peter rolled his eyes as he flopped backwards onto his bed, accidentally sending his polar bear bouncing onto the floor. "I know, Ned, okay? And if I could do something about it, I would. But I can't."

"I know, I know." There was another pause as Peter heard Ned's mother call out his name, presumably for dinner. "Mom says that dinner's ready, so I guess I'll talk to you later?"

"Yeah, sounds good," Peter said. "See ya."

As soon as the screen went blank Peter huffed out a sharp breath, scrubbing at his eyes with the heels of his hands and wincing at the pain that shot through his damaged fingers. Sleep had been so hard to come by lately that his vision kept warping into the honeycomb-like state that it always took on when he was extra tired, but he hadn't wanted to arouse suspicions by wearing the glasses Dad had made for him so he'd just been trying to deal with it.

Papa had been having enough trouble sleeping for all three of them lately, and Dad didn't need to add Peter's nightmares on top of everything else that he was worried about.

The fact that he couldn't remember much of what had happened in the bunker didn't help at all, especially Papa. Papa absolutely _hated_ not knowing exactly what was done to Peter during his captivity, but all Peter could clearly remember was the shocking reveal of the video, the sharp ice bolt that raced down his spine a couple seconds before Obie and the Winter Soldiers broke into their apartment and immobilised them, and the sound of Obie's slimy voice as he loomed over Papa, taunting him before they were all knocked out and taken away. But after that, aside from a few memories of Uncle Bucky's voice echoing around in his head and a whole truckload of pain, things were mostly just one big blur.

Which, judging from everything that he'd overheard from Dad and Papa regarding the battle, was probably a good thing. Peter far preferred remembering the feeling of absolute safety and serenity as he woke up in the hospital cuddled between his dads to the horrible sound of shattering glass in Dad's lab, even if he had been confused as hell as to how he got there, and why there was a massive tube poking out of his stomach.

"Pete?" Dad suddenly said from his doorway, rapping his knuckles against the wood. "Feel like having a milkshake for dinner?"

"Are you kidding? Heck yeah!" Peter exclaimed as he gingerly sat up. He could at least sip a milkshake without needing it fed to him. "Is it chocolate?"

"You know it, buddy," Dad said with a smile. "Papa thought you'd appreciate it."

"Yeah, well he was right."

"Papa usually is." Dad clapped a hand on Peter's shoulder as they headed towards the kitchen, where Papa presented him with what looked to be at least a litre-sized cup filled with cold chocolate deliciousness. Peppermint had always been his favourite ice cream flavour, but since he couldn't have it anymore, chocolate was it.

And there was even whipped cream on the top.

"Mmm," Peter said as he took a long drink, his cheeks hollowing out with how thick it was. "This is so awesome, Papa, thank you!"

"You're welcome, little guy," Papa said as he handed Dad one of his weird-looking green smoothies. "And Uncle Sam and Uncle Bucky are coming over in a few minutes to watch a movie with us, does that sound okay?"

In the middle of another giant sip of milkshake, Peter could only nod his head, squeezing his eyes closed when a brain freeze suddenly attacked. After finishing the Harry Potter movies, Peter had introduced Uncle Bucky to both Star Wars and Star Trek, just like he had with Papa, and so far Uncle Bucky far preferred Star Trek to Star Wars, even as he enjoyed having mock-lightsaber fights with Peter during their frequent bonfires.

"Helen's scheduled another set of x-rays for your hands day after tomorrow, buddy," Dad said quietly once they were all settled on the couch, with Peter in his usual spot between his dads and Uncle Bucky and Uncle Sam on the loveseat opposite them. "And once the splints are off, I'm gonna need your help with some stuff in the lab, okay? I was gonna wait on it until we got back to the city, but now…"

"It's fine, Dad," Peter said quickly. "You know how much I've missed working in the lab."

Dad gave him a brief smile, ruffing his hair. "So, what's new with Ned?"

"Nothing much," Peter said with a shrug. "But apparently his mom found out that we're gonna have a new student starting in our class who's supposedly smarter than me."

"Oh, really?" Dad said. "And who might that be?"

"Ned didn't tell me her name," Peter answered through a mouthful of milkshake. "Just that her dad's a deputy police chief."

"Mmm. Deputy police chief, hmm?" Dad said, raising his eyebrows. "Well, I highly doubt that she's smarter than you, buddy, 'cause we all know that's impossible."

A piece of popcorn landed square in the middle of Peter's forehead before he could reply, causing him to jump.

"What the—?"

"You guys wanna quiet down over there?" said Uncle Sam. "We're just getting to the good part!"

Dad shot Uncle Sam a playful glare. "You're damn lucky you're useful around here, Wilson, or—"

"Or… what, you'd get rid of me?" Uncle Sam asked with a rather wry grin, shoving a handful of popcorn into his mouth. "Go ahead and try, Iron Man. I'll watch."

"All right, that's enough," Papa said. He tugged on Peter's shoulder, drawing him back to lean against him. Peter let out a sigh as he settled in, sipping on his milkshake with the comforting sound of Papa's heartbeat beneath his ear as Dad scooted backwards until there was no space between the three of them, with Papa's hand resting on his arm.

"Let's just enjoy this, okay?" Papa whispered, only loud enough for Peter and Dad to hear, and a knot rose in Peter's throat at his tone. He sounded scared, almost desperate, much like he had in the hospital right after Peter had woken up until he was reassured that Peter was going to be okay. The fun summer had helped him relax a little bit, but now, after the incident at the lake, Papa was back to being afraid.

And if Captain America was afraid of something, that never boded well for anyone.

* * *

_**I can't wait to see what you think! Please don't hesitate to leave me a review, and be sure to favourite and follow as well! :)**_

_**You can also stop by and see me on tumblr, I'm geekymoviemom and geeky-writes there! :)**_


	2. Chapter 2

Steve gasped as he jerked awake, panting for breath as if he'd just finished one of his hard runs. His hand shot out to the side, instinctively reaching for Tony, only to find the bed empty and cold next to him so he grabbed onto Tony's pillow, crushing it to his chest and burying his nose in it. He inhaled deeply, allowing the familiar, comforting scent of his husband to wash over him, shivering as he broke into a cold sweat that quickly drenched the sheets and trying not to think about the nightmare that just woke him, but managing to think of nothing else.

It had been the ice again, the Arctic ice this time, with the sounds of shattering glass and groaning metal rumbling in his ears and the freezing-cold water searing right into his lungs to choke the breath from him as he sank, lower and lower and lower…

And the distant voice of Peggy Carter, ensuring him that they would look for him, that they would find him.

Somehow, they would find him.

_Tony and Peter found me. They saved me._

Squeezing his eyes closed, Steve inhaled another deep, shuddering breath, trying to calm his thundering heart. He could still taste the saltwater on his tongue, still feel the searing pain shooting throughout his body from the skyrocketing water pressure.

Still remember the exact moment when he realised he could no longer hold his breath, and was forced to give in.

Sam had told Steve multiple times that he would likely never forget such an experience, but that over time the traumatic memories would fade.

And they had.

Until it happened again.

Steve had thought that he'd discovered the limit to his panicking ability when he saw Peter fall into the fire pit at the HYDRA bunker, but even that didn't compare to the horror he felt when he saw Peter disappear under the water. The thought of his beloved son being frozen in ice and drowning, knowing exactly what it felt like… and how terrifying it was…

It was too horrible to even contemplate.

But yet, here he was.

He tightened his arms around Tony's pillow, wishing so badly that it was Tony instead, and was then immediately wracked with guilt at the very thought. Because he knew exactly why Tony wasn't in the bed with him.

Tony was in his lab, working on whatever he was working on to make sure nothing like what had happened at the lake ever happened again. He and Peter had been spending most of their time in there ever since Peter's hands had healed, and Steve had just been trying to remain supportive while staying out of their way. He knew better than to protest too much when Tony got into one of his manic building modes.

"JARVIS?" Steve said, or rather, croaked.

"At your service, Captain Rogers. How can I be of assistance?"

Steve cleared his throat, still trying to work all of the non-existent water out of his airway.

"Is Peter doing okay?"

"Master Peter is currently sleeping peacefully, Captain, with his vital signs within his normal parameters," JARVIS replied. "However, he did experience a short period of restlessness approximately forty-five minutes ago."

"Restlessness?" Steve asked with a frown. "What do you mean, like a nightmare?"

"His heart rate and respiratory patterns were consistent as such, Captain," answered JARVIS. The UI paused then, as if he was weighing his next words. "However, Master Peter specifically requested that I not report it to either yourself or to Mr Stark."

Steve shot up in bed, still clutching Tony's pillow. "And why would he do that?"

"I do imagine that he did not wish to disturb you or Mr Stark, Captain," JARVIS said. "Especially since this was not the first of such requests."

Sharp tears pricked Steve's eyes, and he swallowed hard, his hands fisting into the pillow clutched to his chest. Of course Peter would try to hide his own misery since he knew Steve was having frequent nightmares as well. Tony had warned Steve way back when he first moved in with them that Peter was often selfless to a fault, and Steve had personally witnessed it for himself many times.

"JARVIS, how many of these requests have there been?"

"Are you desiring an exact number, Captain, or more of an estimate?"

Steve huffed in frustration. "Just give me something!"

"Master Peter's nighttime disturbances are not as frequent as your own, Captain, but do occur approximately three or four times per week."

"Okay, and do you know if he's mentioned them to Sam?"

"He has, Captain," JARVIS answered after a short pause. "And Mr Wilson did also inform Master Peter that he would be unable to maintain his confidence if they did not improve within a reasonable amount of time."

"Well, at least there's that," muttered Steve. He had absolutely no reason not to trust Sam, so if Sam thought that he and Peter could work through Peter's nightmares on their own then Steve wasn't going to say anything. He and Tony had just had a conversation about that very thing a few nights ago, following Peter's fifteenth birthday dinner. As Peter enjoyed reminding them from time to time, he was a teenager now, and Steve and Tony were trying to give him the space he desired while still keeping as close an eye on him as they could.

It was difficult, but they were trying.

"But he's all right now, JARVIS?" Steve asked.

"Yes, Captain. As I stated previously, Master Peter is currently sleeping comfortably."

Steve nodded, scrubbing his palm down his face. "And Tony?"

"Mr Stark's current location is his laboratory, Captain."

"Not surprising. And when was the last time he had anything to eat?"

"At approximately 1900 hours, when you all enjoyed your evening meal."

"Ah huh," Steve said, glancing at the clock which read 0327. "And how much coffee has he had since then?"

"Nearly one and a half litres, Captain," answered JARVIS.

"Yeah, that sounds about right." Pursing his lips, Steve swung his legs over the side of the bed and got to his feet, reaching for the headboard when he wobbled slightly. He pulled his t-shirt over his head and headed out the door, padding down the hallway towards Peter's bedroom. JARVIS had told him that Peter was okay and Steve trusted him, but… he always preferred seeing Peter for himself.

Silently, Steve poked his head around Peter's slightly open door, letting out a small sigh of relief when he saw that yes, Peter did appear to be sleeping peacefully, hugging his polar bear as usual with his favourite white noise rain sounds playing in the background. He tiptoed inside the room, reaching down to brush Peter's curls off his forehand, his heart leaping when Peter instinctively leaned into his touch. The boy had grown at least eight centimetres over the summer and his jawline had sharpened up a bit, but he still had the same round cheeks and full lips that he'd always had, so he wasn't done growing quite yet.

Which suited Steve just fine. Peter had been eleven already when Steve first met him, and he was in no hurry for the boy to grow up any faster than he already was. He wanted to enjoy as much time with Peter as he could before he really grew up and left home.

Steve planted a soft kiss on Peter's forehead, then pulled his blankets up over his shoulder, tucking them securely around his neck. He and Tony kept Peter's bedroom warmer than the rest of their apartment to help Peter maintain his body temp, but he still enjoyed being practically buried in his blankets while he slept.

Exiting Peter's room, Steve headed next for the kitchen. If he couldn't help Tony with whatever he was doing in the lab then at least he could make sure he had some decent fuel besides coffee. Tony drank enough coffee for three people on a normal day, and it got even worse when he was pulling his all-nighters. And as much as Tony liked to dismiss all of the issues that he'd had with his heart and his health in general, Steve still believed that he couldn't be too careful.

Those images of his husband lying there on that hospital bed for days on end, hooked to innumerable machines and with his sternum gaping open, not knowing if the surgeon would be able to operate until just moments before he did still haunted Steve, and likely would for the rest of his life.

Just like the images of Peter falling and being pulled under the water.

_Maybe I shouldn't push off my next appointment with Sam._

Steve gave his head a hard shake as he retrieved some leftover homemade ravioli and garlic bread from the refrigerator and set about reheating them, including enough for the two of them since he knew Tony was more likely to stop and eat if they could eat together. Steve's stomach gave a rumble as the delicious scents of oregano, Parmesan, and marinara sauce permeated throughout the kitchen, and he smiled as he recalled how much fun he and Peter had preparing the meal the previous night, as if they were just a normal family making and eating dinner together.

Family and stability. Steve had craved those things for as long as he could remember, and now that he had them, or at least had the family part, all he wanted was to hang onto them.

More than _anything._

Once the food was ready, Steve piled it all onto a tray with two bottles of water and headed for the lab. He found Tony in his usual spot near his main workstation, standing in front of a holographic model of what looked like a larger version of the little round robot vacuum cleaners that Peter had had in his Malibu house bedroom. Tony whipped around as Steve approached, his wide, frantic eyes narrowing into a frown as he noticed the tray in Steve's hands.

"I don't remember calling for a meal delivery," Tony said as Steve set down the tray, leaning back against the counter. Steve crossed his arms, holding Tony's gaze firmly.

"I know you didn't," he said. "But since I'm here anyway, we may as well enjoy it."

Tony huffed, his frown deepening for a moment even as concern flitted across his eyes.

"You had another bad dream, didn't you."

Steve's shoulders dropped as he nodded. Tony knew him far too well.

"Yeah."

"Mmm. Thought so," Tony said. He swiped a slice of garlic bread from the tray, ripping off a piece and stuffing it into his mouth. "Which one was it this time?"

"The _Valkyrie,_" Steve answered quietly, shuddering.

"Oh, honey," Tony whispered as he opened his arms, drawing Steve close, his fingers slipping underneath the hem of his t-shirt to ghost across the skin of his lower back right above his waistline. Steve shivered at the light touch, burying his nose into Tony's thick hair and breathing in.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there," Tony murmured into his neck.

"It's okay," Steve said quickly. "I just… I know what you're doing is important, but—"

"Better security will help us all sleep better, babe," Tony cut in. "And I'm working as fast as I can, so—"

"Which is why I'm here." Steve pressed a quick kiss to Tony's forehead and pulled back, indicating the food. "I didn't want you going hungry while you're trying to work."

Tony tilted his head, eyeing him fondly. "You really are a mother hen, you know that? Were you like this in the Army too?"

"Not exactly," answered Steve with a light chuckle. "There weren't really many opportunities for home-cooked meals in the Army."

"Ah," Tony said with a smirk, popping another piece of garlic bread into his mouth. "So, does that mean you're trying to imply that I'm special to you or something?"

Steve let out a rather cheeky grin. "Or something." He grabbed Tony's left hand, kissing his finger over his wedding ring. "I don't buy jewelry like this for just anyone, you know."

"Well, I should hope not," Tony retorted. "Otherwise all those fancy words you said at our wedding were just that. Words." He jerked his head towards the food, his beautiful brown eyes twinkling in the soft light of the hologram. "But you've always been a man of both words and action, so I guess I have no choice but to believe you."

"Good," Steve said firmly. "Because I don't want you to ever wonder how much I love you."

In a flash Tony's expression morphed from teasing to absolute seriousness as curled his arms around Steve's waist, dropping his forehead against his collarbone. "God, Steve, I could never wonder about it," he whispered. "Not in a million years."

"Good," Steve repeated. "Now, why don't we eat while it's hot, then you can explain to me what this contraption is?"

With a rather proud grin, Tony stuffed the rest of the bread into his mouth as he dragged a second chair over to the counter for Steve. They made idle small talk as they ate, discussing Peter's upcoming school year and Steve's initial plans for their next set of HYDRA raids, which they were hoping to start around the beginning of October, pending James' availability to stay with Peter. As much as Tony had softened towards Bucky after the bunker battle, Tony wasn't to the point yet where he felt comfortable leaving Peter alone in the Tower with him.

"I'm kinda hoping that Thor might show up again once we start," Steve said, watching with amusement as Tony scooped up the remaining sauce on his plate with a second slice of bread. For all his grumbling about Steve making him eat regular meals, Tony never complained all that much about the food itself.

"That'd definitely be handy," Tony answered through his mouthful of sauce-laden bread. "Things tend to go a bit faster when he's around, with the whole summoning lightning thing and all. Even if he does act a little too Shakespearean for my taste sometimes."

"Yeah, I liked how well we all worked together," agreed Steve. "It's too bad we don't have any way to contact him."

Tony quirked an eyebrow. "He says he has that Asgardian guardian of his keep an eye on us, whatever that means, but if that's the case then why didn't he show up at the bunker? We could've used him then too."

Steve's belly gave a hard swoop at the mention of the bunker, and he swallowed hard, prompting Tony to grab his hand.

"Oh Christ, babe, I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking, you know I tend to just shoot off my mouth—"

"It's all right," Steve said gently. He chugged down the rest of his water, attempting to wash down the taste of bile in the back of his throat. "Can you tell me what this is now?"

Tony's lips twitched in excitement as he got to his feet, drawing the hologram further away from the counter and enlarging it.

"So far this is just the prototype design, and I'm not completely done with it yet," he began. "But once I'm finally happy with it I'll be making a whole fleet of 'em."

"Okay," Steve said slowly. "But what is it? 'Cause right now it kinda looks like one of those round robot vacuum cleaners that Peter used to have."

Tony grinned, lighting up his entire face, and Steve couldn't help but grin back. He could never resist one of Tony's smiles.

"It does kinda look like those things, doesn't it?" Tony reached for Steve's hand, nudging the hologram up so they could step underneath it. "It's actually a drone, designed to be part of a complete tactical defence system. My ultimate plan is to create an entire fleet of these babies and station them at strategic points around both the Compound and the Tower. They'll have similar programming to the Iron Legion, so JARVIS'll be in charge, but you and I will have manual command functions too, just in case JARVIS somehow gets compromised."

"Which, if I may remind you, sir, is extremely unlikely," JARVIS piped up, sounding rather petulant. "In fact, I estimate the chances of it at less than 0.00000001 percent."

"Can't be too careful though, right, J?" Tony shot back. "Especially where Pete's safety is concerned?"

JARVIS actually sighed. "Of course, sir. Master Peter's safety is always of utmost concern."

"Okay, JARVIS is right, but can you tell me what these drones will be able to do?" Steve asked warily. "Because if it's what I'm thinking, then this sounds an awful lot like Project Insight, and Tony, I'm not sure if—"

"This is a tactical _defence_ system, Steve," Tony said sharply. "_Defensive_, not offensive like Project Insight. It's not gonna be targeting innocent civilians just because we don't happen to agree with their political views or banking habits. The system will react if and only if it detects a threat to our safety, there won't be anything done proactively." He paused as he glanced at Steve, his jaw set tight. "And once they're in place—as long as they work according to my specs, which they will—then there should be no more incidents like that one at the lake, where I had to watch you be encased in ice like freaking Han Solo, and—"

He broke off then, his lower lip shaking. "I can't—I can't go through that again, Steve, and neither can Pete. We just _can't_, so—I'm gonna make sure that we don't have to. Pete—he's already been through so much shit, and he's only a _kid._ He needs a break, honey. We all just need a goddamn _break."_

Steve's heart lurched at the desperation in Tony's tone, and the guilt he'd managed to stamp down earlier came roaring back with a vengeance. How could he have not thought about how badly the incident at the lake had affected Tony?

"Come here," he murmured, wrapping his arms around his husband and practically crushing him to his chest. "I'm so sorry, mo grá. I didn't—I haven't been thinking, and I'm—"

"Of course you've been thinking," Tony retorted. His palms rubbed up and down Steve's back, taking some of the sting from his words. "You've been thinking you're not gonna let anything like that happen again, which I happen to agree with. This is just my way of contributing."

"You make it sound like just some little thing," Steve said into Tony's hair. "But you always end up doing the most of any of us, and I don't think we ever appreciate you enough. And for that, I'm so sorry."

Tony was quiet for a moment, his body relaxed against Steve's. "No need to be sorry, honey," he finally whispered. "To be honest, I get more appreciation from the team—and you especially—than I ever did from Howard. With him, everything I did was always just kinda… expected."

Steve dug the pads of his fingers into Tony's scalp, smiling when Tony let out a soft moan. "Howard knew how smart you are, sweetheart, I'm sure of it."

"Mmm. Maybe," Tony replied, moaning again when Steve's fingers trailed down to the back of his neck and pressed harder. He slipped his hands underneath Steve's t-shirt again, tipping his head to press an open-mouthed kiss to the underside of Steve's jaw, smirking when Steve's breath hitched.

"Don't really wanna talk about my father right now, if that's okay with you," Tony whispered. He kissed the same spot again and Steve shivered, clutching Tony even closer to him.

"Ohh," he said softly, his eyes fluttering closed. "You know how much I love that."

"Mmm, why do you think I do it?" Tony said, rather cheekily. "I can never get enough of those cute noises that you make."

Steve growled then, one hand sliding down Tony's back to squeeze his ass as his other cupped Tony's cheek, tilting his head up and capturing his lips. Tony whimpered as Steve licked into his mouth, scraping his blunt fingernails up Steve's back.

"_Steve,"_ Tony said as Steve broke away, kissing a path down his jaw to his throat and latching onto his pulse point. "You're distracting me, babe."

"All your fault," Steve breathed into Tony's neck. He hefted Tony into his arms, carrying him over to the couch in the corner of the lab and settling him on his lap. "This wasn't why I came in here, you know, ach tá tú dodhéanta seasamh in aghaidh."

Tony's eyes crinkled as he smiled mischievously, grinding his hips down against Steve's as he glided Steve's t-shirt up and over his head, tossing it aside. "Oh, I know that, hot stuff. If it had been, you wouldn't've bothered with a shirt."

"That's very true." Steve tipped his head back as Tony's lips attacked his neck again, their hips rocking together in the erotic dance they had perfected over the last three years. "But then I didn't bother with any underwear, so—"

"Holy shit, you didn't just say that," Tony rasped against his throat, sucking into the tender flesh just above his Adam's apple. "You're such a naughty boy. God, I have managed to completely corrupt Captain America himself. Who would've thought?"

Instead of answering Steve grabbed Tony's chin, bringing their lips back together as he shifted them on the couch so Tony was lying underneath him. Tony's legs instinctively hitched up, wrapping around Steve's waist as his calloused palms glided up Steve's arms to his shoulders.

"Christ, baby, you're so good," Tony breathed as Steve rid him of his t-shirt, pressing his palm gently over the starburst of scars covering Tony's heart, framed by Steve's dog tags. Tony liked to joke that they were his battle scars, remnants left behind from the arc reactor that had kept him alive for over three years, ever since he and Peter were kidnapped in Afghanistan.

"I love you so much," Steve whispered, his lips trailing along the slightly puckered skin over Tony's repaired sternum as Tony's hands fisted into his hair. "You have such a big heart, mo grá, the biggest of any of us, and I'm so lucky that you let me inside. Ni féidir liom maireachtáil gan tú."

"You're such a sap, Rogers," Tony said as Steve kissed down to his abs, which contracted at his touch. "But I'm thinking that I'm gonna need a bit more Brooklyn from you tonight."

"Oh really?" asked Steve as he popped the button on Tony's pants, tugging them and his underwear off and onto the floor. He ran his hands up Tony's lean, muscular legs up to his thighs, watching as they quivered under his touch. "Well if that's the case, then why doesn't my gorgeous fella tell me what he wants, and I'll see what I can do?"

"Oh shit, honey, now you're just teasing me," Tony said, his back arching off the couch when Steve trailed his fingers across Tony's pelvis to wrap around his erection, stroking him gently. "Whoever thought that Steve Rogers could be such a goddamn tease?"

Steve smirked as he tightened his grip, resting his chin in the valley of Tony's hipbone. "I learned from the best, sweetheart."

"Oh, it is so not fair to use my own weapons against me," Tony groaned. "That's like the ultimate in playing dirty." He tugged hard on Steve's hair, bringing his head up to seal their lips together while he slipped his hands underneath Steve's waistband to grip his ass.

"Damn, you have such a pretty ass, baby," Tony whispered as Steve broke away, throwing his head back as Tony rocked up against him. "I mean, not that the rest of you isn't perfect too, but _damn._ I swear this ass of yours was sculpted by those ancient Asgardian gods Thor's always going on about."

Steve shushed him with another kiss, sloppy and wet as he kicked off his pants, pleasure shooting through him like bolts of lightning. "You still haven't told me what you want, sweetheart."

Tony looked up at him then, bathed in the blue and yellow glow from the hologram a few metres away, with his beautiful face flushed and eager and his striking brown eyes staring up at him with such intense love and desire that Steve felt his heart stutter.

"Steve, I just want _you,_" he murmured. "All of you."

'_Cause all of me, loves all of you._

_Now who's being the sap?_

"And you've got me. You've got all of me, now and forever," Steve said softly. He trailed his fingertips down Tony's temple and cheek to his mouth, tracing his full bottom lip. "But right now I wanna make you feel good. Are you gonna let me make you feel good, darlin'?"

"I swear that accent of yours is gonna do me in one of these days," Tony said on a gasp as Steve's fingers curled around him again. "It's so fucking hot, baby, I can hardly take it!"

Steve shot him a wicked grin as he tightened his grip, leaning over to whisper, "Do you want my hands or my mouth, sweetheart?"

Tony huffed out a sharp breath, his fingernails digging into Steve's biceps. "I need that gorgeous mouth of yours on me, babe," he choked out. "And, like, as soon as possible."

"Mmm," Steve murmured. "Now we're gettin' somewhere."

Steve hadn't been lying when he said that he had gained almost all of his sexual knowledge from Tony. He remembered researching some things on the internet before they spent their first night together, and that combined with the limited information he'd been able to glean while in the Army had gotten him familiar enough with the basics to at least give him some idea of how to proceed.

But even with all of his planning and preparation, he'd never dreamed of how absolutely mind-blowing it could actually be until he experienced it. Sex with Tony was always incredible, whether it was a quickie after a mission to help them both wind down enough to sleep or the longer, more languid lovemaking that he preferred, Steve had absolutely no complaints about their sex life.

And the best part was, neither did Tony. Even with all of Tony's previous experiences and partners, he never failed to tell Steve that he was the best he'd ever had, and every action that followed only proved his words multiple times over.

Which just made it even better.

Even on instances such as this, where after making each other fall apart at least twice, they happened to fall asleep naked and entwined on the couch in Tony's lab, only for Peter to discover them still there in the morning.

* * *

"Now, you're sure that you have everything?" Papa said as they pulled into the school's parking lot. "Glasses? Earplugs? Snacks? Calculator? Pencils?"

"Yeah, Papa, I promise I got everything," Peter answered, suppressing an eyeroll. Papa was always hovered a lot more than Peter thought was necessary whenever Dad wasn't with them, as if he assumed he needed to make up for Dad's absence. Dad had received an emergency phone call from the Department of Damage Control about five minutes before they were supposed to leave, something about a possible security breach with one of the trucks in D.C. transporting artefacts left over from the Triskelion, if Peter had overheard correctly. Lately anything involving D.C. was enough to make both Papa and Dad extra twitchy, especially since the presidential election was only a couple months away.

Peter and Papa had also both had nightmares the previous night, which ended up with all three of them piling onto Peter's bed at around three in the morning, trying to catch at least a little bit of sleep before he had to get up for school. Cuddling with his dads did help Peter get back to sleep, but he was still pretty embarrassed about the fact that he had needed them there in the first place.

He wasn't a baby anymore. It was time he started being able to handle certain things himself, even if Dad and Papa didn't seem to want to admit it.

Papa shifted the truck into park and turned towards Peter, placing a hand on his shoulder, his knuckles covered in scrapes and bruises from his boxing workout the previous day.

"You'll call if you need anything, right? You know I won't mind coming back up here if you need me," Papa said. Peter bit his lip at how nervous Papa looked, almost as if he was afraid to let Peter out of his sight.

Not that Peter could blame him. Just when Dad and Papa had started to relax again after the whole bunker battle, the incident at the lake happened and set them all back to square one.

Minus Peter's months-long coma, of course, there at least was that. But Peter was having a hard time shaking the thought that the lake incident was his fault. He'd been the one begging Papa and Dad for that last round of waterskiing, trying to master dropping a ski, and then…

And now Papa was suffering even more from it.

"Yeah, Papa, I promise," Peter said gently. He tipped his head forward, wrapping his arms around Papa's neck and sighing in contentment when Papa hugged him close. Peter absolutely adored his Papa bear hugs, and Papa always gave them willingly.

"Try and have a good day, little guy, okay?" Papa said, kissing Peter on the top of his head. "I love you."

"Uh huh. Love you too, Papa."

"Hopefully Dad'll be done with all of his government business by this afternoon so we can both come and pick you up after your Decathlon practise," Papa added. "And Uncle Bucky's gonna come over for dinner tonight, so I thought we could all watch a movie afterwards as long as you don't have too much homework."

"Nah, it's just the first day, I won't have too much," answered Peter. "And that sounds awesome."

"Good," Papa said, smiling as he ruffled Peter's hair. "See you this afternoon."

Peter nodded as he opened the truck door, setting one foot down on the pavement and jumping back just as fast when a fancy sports car suddenly screeched to a halt in the parking spot right next to them. Peter frowned as Flash Thompson climbed out of the car, tossing him a wink as he slammed the door closed and sauntered towards the school.

"Guess Flash is trying to show off his new car," Peter said. He swung his backpack over his shoulder, shaking his head.

"Well, he should really be more careful," Papa grumbled. "I doubt the school officials would condone driving like that in their parking lot."

"No, probably not."

Peter waved as Papa exited the parking lot, then went inside, dodging the boisterous upperclassmen as he headed for his locker which was thankfully in the same hallway as it had been the previous year. He had just managed to get it unlocked and opened when Ned suddenly appeared behind him, shoving a magazine right in front of his nose.

"Did you see the latest Lego catalog?" he asked. "There's a new Death Star set that's coming available in about a month!"

"No way, that's awesome!" Peter exclaimed. "How many pieces?"

"Three thousand, eight hundred and three," Ned said proudly. "And my mom let me put in a preorder this morning, so as soon as it comes available they'll ship it right out." He paused, eyeing Peter pointedly. "You know, it would be tons of fun if we could build it over at your place. Maybe your Auntie Nat would even wanna help us?"

"I'm sure she would," Peter answered. "I'll ask Dad, see what he says. I know he doesn't see you as a security threat, and it's not like you'd try anything with Auntie Nat sitting right there anyway."

Ned's eyes went wide. "Um, no!" he said emphatically. "Dude, I don't have a death wish, thank you very much! Black Widow is like the most badass of badasses, there's no way I'd wanna piss her off!"

"Yeah, she is pretty badass," Peter said with a grin. _And also the sweetest, kindest, most loving woman I've ever met._ Peter absolutely adored his Auntie Nat, and felt very privileged that she allowed him to see the softer side of her that she only revealed to a very select group of people.

After gathering the books he would need for his morning classes, Peter and Ned headed down the hall to their homeroom classroom, sliding into their seats just as the bell rang. Peter violently jumped at the harsh, piercing sound, kicking himself for not anticipating it.

"Dude, you okay?" Ned hissed as their teacher stood up to deliver the morning announcements.

Peter swallowed hard as he nodded, digging around in his pocket for his earplugs. "Yeah, just forgot how loud the bells are, no big deal."

"Um… okay," Ned said, confused. "They've always been that way, but whatever." He jerked his head towards the front of the class where an unfamiliar girl was sitting, her long blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail and her back ramrod-straight, listening intently to the teacher drone on about lab deposits and lunch schedules.

"Do you think that's the new girl?"

"I'm guessing so since i've never seen her before," answered Peter. "What'd you say her name was?"

"I didn't," Ned replied. "Mom didn't know, only that she's the daughter of a new deputy police chief."

"Hmm. Well, I guess we'll see if she's as smart as they—"

"Is there something that you'd like to share with the rest of the class, Mr Stark-Rogers?" the teacher suddenly said. Peter gulped, ducking down into his hoodie as the entire class turned to stare at him.

"Ahh… no, ma'am," he stammered, shaking his head. "Sorry 'bout that."

The teacher pursed her lips. "Then I would appreciate having your full attention during these announcements, is that clear?"

"Yes, ma'am. Very clear."

His cheeks flaming, Peter rested his chin on his tall stack of books for the rest of the fifteen-minute homeroom period, subtly watching the clock so he could brace himself for the shrill ring of the bell. He was out of his seat as soon as it rang, practically sprinting down the hallway towards his physics class with Ned right on his heels, trying to keep up.

"What the hell's the matter with you this morning?" Ned asked as they arrived in the classroom. "You're so jumpy you're acting like you've never been to school before!"

"Nothing," Peter said, very unconvincingly when Ned narrowed his eyes. "Just tired, I guess. Didn't sleep all that great last night."

"Oh. Well, that kinda sucks," said Ned. He blinked as the blonde girl entered the classroom, sitting down in the center seat in the front row as the rest of the class filtered in.

"There she is again."

"Yeah, so? She's probably in all of our classes," said Peter.

"Hmm. She's kinda pretty though, don't you think?" Ned asked. "In a sort of classic, preppy kinda way."

Peter glanced at her again, tilting his head. The girl was pretty, there was no denying it. She also seemed a bit aloof, but Peter assumed that was mainly because it was her first day at school and she didn't know anyone yet.

"Cindy told me she qualified for Academic Decathlon too," added Ned. "So I guess we'll be seeing her after school."

"Mmm, okay," Peter answered. "I'm guessing she's one of the Honour members?"

"Yeah, with you and Liz," Ned said. "Flash got bumped down to Varsity, and Cindy's now Scholastic like me."

Peter had just opened his mouth to reply when the girl turned her head, looking back at Peter and Ned. Peter's cheeks flushed hot as he locked eyes with her, and he gave her a very awkward smile, flushing even deeper when she smiled back.

Ned was right; she was in fact _very_ pretty. Maybe being in classes with her wouldn't be so bad afterall.

Despite Peter's fatigue and overall jitteriness, the school day passed rather quickly, and he was relieved when he and Ned took their seats in the gym for Decathlon practise. The theme for the year was In Sickness and In Health: An Exploration of Illness and Wellness, and Peter was very much looking forward to the challenge of it since the previous year's theme had been purely science-oriented, and therefore really easy.

He had even already started on his essay, choosing to write about the simultaneous development of the two different versions of the polio vaccine. Papa had been especially resourceful when Peter started researching for his essay, regaling Peter with numerous stories of his ma's experience with polio victims during her work as a nurse almost a century ago. Papa loved telling stories about his time as a boy, or at least stories that didn't involve him getting sick or beaten up, and never failed to make Peter smile at his enthusiasm when he was able to assist Peter with his schoolwork.

Peter had also already read the assigned book, Mary Shelley's _Frankenstein_, twice over the summer, a book that Uncle Bucky and Uncle Sam had also enjoyed.

He was just stuffing his backpack under his chair when the blonde girl sat down on his opposite side, holding out her hand.

"Hello," she said with a friendly smile. "I'm Gwen Stacy."

"Uhh, hi," Peter stammered. He instinctively wiped his palm on his knee before grasping her hand, which felt as soft as silk. "I'm—um… I'm Peter. Peter Stark-Rogers."

"Yeah, I kinda gathered that when the homeroom teacher called you Mr Stark-Rogers," said Gwen. "Isn't your dad Iron Man?"

"Yeah, one—one of 'em," answered Peter, clearing his throat. "I've got two."

"Peter's other dad is Captain America!" Ned exclaimed. "And he lives in Avengers' Tower, with all the Avengers!"

"Yeah, I've seen it," replied Gwen, rather dismissively. "Avengers' Tower is located in my dad's new precinct, and he took me around when we first moved into the neighbourhood."

Peter nodded, feeling not too unlike one of Papa's bobble-head baseball figurines. "Where'd you move from?"

"The Bronx," Gwen said. "I used to go to the Bronx School of Science."

Ned scoffed. "Oh, our Decathlon team is way better than theirs!"

Gwen blinked, smiling politely. "Well, I guess we'll find out, won't we?"

A loud clap drew their attention to the front, where their team captain Liz and their coach Mr Harrington had settled themselves at the podium. "All right guys, let's get to work, all right?" said Mr Harrington. "I'm only responsible for you for the next forty-five minutes."

Since Liz had always been especially fond of the lightning round, the team spent pretty much the entire time with answered rapid-fire questions, with Peter and Gwen answering the majority of them, much to the chagrin of Flash Thompson.

"Well, Peter," Gwen said after Mr Harrington announced that practise was over. "I guess your reputation really did precede you. I never thought there'd be anyone who could keep up with me during those questions."

Peter's face flushed from the top of his head down to his collarbones. "Um… thanks?" _And when the hell did I get a reputation?_

"You're welcome," she answered. Then she shot him a smile, gathered up her books, and headed for the door.

"Ahh, was that supposed to be a compliment?" Ned asked, staring at the door to the gym as it swung closed again. "'Cause—?"

"I guess," Peter said with a shrug. "I'm gonna take it that way, anyway." He gathered up his backpack, pulling his glasses out from one of the side pockets and slipping them on. It had been getting harder and harder for him to keep his vision focused as the practise wore on, and he was starting to get a headache.

They found Papa and Dad waiting in Papa's truck in the parking lot, where Peter's gaze was drawn to the unmarked police car just exiting the school's property, with Gwen riding in the front seat.

"Hey Mr Stark!" Ned said, waving as Dad rolled down his window. "Hey Captain Rogers, how're you guys doing?"

"Oh, can't complain too much, Mr Leeds," Dad said with a smirk.

"It's nice to see you, Ned," Papa added. "Do you have a ride home?"

"Oh, yeah, my mom's on her way," answered Ned. "She just texted, should be here in a minute or two."

Papa smiled. "All right then. Have a nice evening."

"You too! See ya tomorrow, Peter."

"Yeah, see ya," Peter said as he climbed into the truck's backseat, slumping into the plush leather chair with a sigh.

"You okay there, buddy?" Dad asked with a frown. "Rough day?"

"Nah, just tired," Peter answered, rubbing his temples. "I met the new girl, she's in the Academic Decathlon with us too."

"Was that her leaving in the police car with her father?" Papa asked. "He waved at us when we pulled in."

Peter nodded, keeping his eyes closed against the harsh late afternoon sun. "Yeah, that was probably him. The girl's name is Gwen Stacy, but I didn't really ask anything about her dad."

He heard Dad pull out his phone. "JARVIS, any info you can give me on a New York City policeman, last name Stacy?"

"Tony, is that really necessary?" asked Papa. "He's just a policeman, not one of D.C.'s politicians."

"Deputy police _chief_, honey, he's a police chief, and they don't get into a cushy precinct like ours without some kind of influence," Dad shot back. "And I just wanna know what kind of influence he's got."

"Deputy Chief George Stacy," JARVIS began. "Deputy Stacy began his career as a police officer when he graduated from the police academy in Queens, then proceeded to move to the Bronx where he was stationed for the last two decades, ultimately rising to the rank of deputy chief. He was transferred to the Midtown precinct approximately three months ago, but it is unclear if the transfer was requested or simply assigned."

There was a short pause before Dad said, "All right. Thanks, J."

"I don't know, Tony," Papa said warily. "Does he really seem like someone that we need to be worried about?"

"Maybe, maybe not, but I'm still gonna keep a close eye on him," answered Dad. "That damn Senator Davis has his fingers in an awful lot of pots for just a junior senator, and the timing of Stacy's transfer is pretty convenient, if you ask me, plus his kid is now in Pete's class? With the presidential election only two months away, I'm not taking anything at face value anymore."

Peter heard Papa give a sigh, and he opened one eye just enough to see the deep frown marring Papa's face.

"I hate that it's come to this," he said quietly. "All the suspicions, not knowing who you can trust. I haven't looked over my shoulder this much since during the war, and I don't like it, Tony. I really don't."

"Me either, honey, me either," Dad replied. "But we'll get to the bottom of it. We always do. Whatever it takes."

Dad reached for Papa's hand then, and Peter instinctively wrinkled his nose at the look Papa gave him, that sickly sweet, "I adore you beyond reason" look that he gave Dad at least a million times a day.

But at the same time Peter had to admit that it gave him a bit of relief, even a small measure of peace. His dads were superheroes, as were all of his extended family, his aunt and uncles, and so far they had proven that they could defeat any evil that had dared to challenge them. Whether it was space aliens, disgruntled former Stark Industries employees, or secret embedded Nazi organisations, as long as Dad and Papa were together and the Avengers were a team, they were pretty much unstoppable.

He just really wished he could be part of it.

* * *

"All right, J, give me another demonstration of the targeting system," Tony said as he made a final adjustment on his monitor. He stepped back, running his fingers along his goatee as the holographic drone hovering in the centre of the lab opened one of its weapons ports and proceeded to fire.

"Accuracy is now to within 0.00001%, sir," JARVIS said. "And I do not believe it is possible to improve upon that."

"Yeah, yeah, not likely," Tony mumbled, his mind already branching out into several different directions. "Remind me again how many parameters we've set up for target identification?"

"Six thousand, four hundred and thirteen, sir," answered JARVIS.

"And you think that's enough?"

"I am unsure as to what else we could consider, sir," JARVIS said. "Unless you feel that a possible target might suddenly possess inanimate qualities the very moment it is targeted, then there is nothing else I would recommend."

Tony huffed out a sharp breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. It was already close to three in the afternoon, which meant that he only had about another hour before he and Steve would need to pick Peter up from school, and he had been fiddling with this targeting system for pretty much the last three days straight, only pausing when Steve managed to cajole him into eating something.

"Would you like me to commence with the render, sir?" JARVIS asked.

"No, no, not quite yet," Tony answered. "I wanna run some more checks on the security protocols and the command codes first."

"Very well. But may I remind you that adding any additional protocols could possibly delay target acquisition and firing."

"Duly noted, J," said Tony with a sigh. He curled his hand around his left arm, squeezing against the tingling pain that always flared up when he was anxious. "Go ahead and run another diagnostic while I talk to Steve, make sure he's okay with starting production."

"Very good, sir."

"And you may as well run another diagnostic on my new suit while you're at it, and start on the render for Pete's new web shooters. Steve's planned a few training sessions for the weekend while we're back upstate."

"In that case, would you prefer that I construct Master Peter's equipment in the lab at the Compound, sir, seeing as that is the location where it will be used?" JARVIS asked.

Tony smirked at JARVIS's attempt to feign innocence. "Why? You trying to imply that Pete's gonna forget to bring 'em if we make 'em here? What would give you that idea?"

"I believe those were your words, sir, not mine," replied JARVIS. "I was merely asking a simple question. The fact that you chose to construe it into a commentary on Master Peter's tendency towards absentmindedness was not at all due to my influence."

"Oh no, not at all," Tony said, thick with sarcasm. He shook his head, a smile lighting on his lips as he recalled how he'd had to run Peter's glasses up to the school that very morning after Peter realised two periods in that he had forgotten them. Again.

_Speaking of, I should probably make him another pair._

"Yeah, go ahead and render them up at the Compound. Better safe than sorry."

"I agree, sir."

With a final glance at the hologram, Tony shut down his monitors and exited the lab, heading for Steve's art studio that was two doors down from their bedroom. He found Steve in his usual spot, standing about half a metre back from his canvas with paintbrush in hand, his head tilted to the side and eyeing his work with a critical eye. He glanced up as soon as Tony stepped into the doorway, his quizzical look immediately melting into a wide smile.

"Hey, sweetheart," he said as he wiped off his paintbrush with a damp cloth. "Everything okay?"

For a moment Tony could only gape in awe at the absolutely beautiful man standing in front of him, unable to even form words. After their wedding, Tony had had the studio remodeled to add more windows for the natural light that Steve preferred, and the afternoon sun was streaming through those very windows now, highlighting the lighter strands in Steve's blond hair like a halo and causing his intense blue eyes with the tiny hint of green to appear even more striking than usual. The fact that his hands and arms were covered in various multicoloured paint smudges only added to the overall effect.

"Good God, you're just so fucking gorgeous," Tony finally said, rushing the words. He forcibly snapped his jaw closed, swallowing hard. "How in the world are you even real?"

Steve's smile widened even more, displaying all of his dazzling, perfectly white teeth in all their glory. "I say the same about you, mo grá," he said softly as his hands slipped around Tony's waist. He dipped his head, brushing Tony's lips with a soft kiss. "Even if you don't believe me."

"No way in hell," Tony muttered with wide eyes. He grabbed onto Steve's biceps, gliding his palms up to his shoulders as Steve pulled him closer, tucking Tony's head under his chin. Tony sighed in contentment at the sound of Steve's low, deep heartbeat beneath his ear, briefly closing his eyes. Back in the beginning of their relationship Tony had been a bit self-conscious about the fact that Steve was so much taller than him, and the way he could just manhandle Tony whenever he felt like it, but now he absolutely loved it. Tony loved being completely enveloped by Steve's arms when they hugged, loved being the smaller spoon when they cuddled at night, and he especially loved it when Steve carried him off to bed, as if he just couldn't wait the few extra seconds for Tony to simply walk there.

Tony didn't only love Steve with all of his heart and soul and everything else he had in him, he felt _safe_ with him. Steve's arms were his sanctuary, the one place he knew he would always be protected.

"The drones are just about ready," Tony finally murmured against Steve's collarbone. "I've run every possible scenario that JARVIS and I can think of on 'em, so…"

Steve's long fingers tangled into Tony's hair, pressing against his scalp. "So… what? Is there supposed to be a question here?"

"Yeah, there is." He lifted his head, staring up into Steve's ocean blue eyes. "If it were just me I'd've already told JARVIS to start building them, but since it's not… I need to know if you're okay with this, babe. I mean, it's basically a really, really souped-up version of a home security system, which wouldn't normally raise any red flags anywhere, but—"

"You're thinking because of all the extra scrutiny we're under that someone might find out about it and use it against us?" Steve asked.

"Definitely wouldn't put it past 'em," Tony answered bitterly. "It's very, very unlikely that someone would find out about it, but still…"

Steve was quiet for a moment, his fingertips massaging Tony's scalp so beautifully that Tony couldn't help but let out a soft moan.

"You said the drones would deliver a non-lethal strike, correct?" he asked.

Tony nodded against Steve's chest. "It's basically like a big stun gun, designed to disable rather than destroy. There is a kill function available, but it requires voice authorisation from either you or me to activate it."

"Which we both know that we would never use unless we had absolutely no other choice," Steve said. He pressed a kiss to Tony's forehead, then tipped his head back, eyeing him intently. "If it'll help us sleep better at night, sweetheart, then I'm okay with it. Peter deserves to feel safe in his own home, and that includes all of our land up at the Compound as well."

Steve's voice was laced with guilt, so deep and heavy that Tony had to briefly look away. How in the hell could he possibly think that any of what had happened was his fault?

"This isn't your fault, Steve," he said firmly. "If anything, it's—"

"No," Steve interrupted. He cupped Tony's face in his hands, his blue eyes boring into Tony's like lasers. "Don't you even say it, sweetheart, 'cause it's not true."

"Steve, both Killian and Stane tried to kill us because _I _pissed them off!" Tony exclaimed. "So how in the hell can you think—?"

He was cut off by Steve's fingers on his lips. "I don't need to think, Tony," he said in his Captain's voice. "Because it's an absolute fact, and that's all there is to it."

"Steve—"

"No," Steve repeated. He stepped back, leaning against his tall supply counter and crossing his arms. "Now, can you tell me how long it'll take to get the security drones up and running?"

Tony glowered at him a few more seconds, pursing his lips. "About a week to manufacture enough for both here and the Compound. We'll need about twice as many for the Compound to cover the whole area, so…"

"Then I think we should get started."

"All right," Tony said with a nod. "You catch that, JARVIS?"

"I did indeed, sir," JARVIS said. "I shall commence with rendering once your armour is complete."

"You're building another suit?" Steve asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"Yeah, I am," answered Tony, rather petulantly. "I made some new adjustments to the hand lasers and a few other things that'd been bugging me. I also played with the colour settings a bit, made the red a bit darker. And you're getting a new uniform too, by the way. I'm experimenting with a new type of Kevlar blend that would offer a lot more buoyancy than the stuff I'm using now, so if you ever wind up in the water again you hopefully won't just sink like a rock, and—"

"All right, Tony, I get it," Steve said quickly. "And for Peter? I'm assuming you're making something for him as well?"

"Just some new web shooters. Pete made a couple tweaks to the design, so… JARVIS has 'em going up at the Compound already."

"I see. And you're still okay with allowing him to train with us?" asked Steve.

"I know he loves it," Tony said after a short pause, his fingers curling around his left forearm again. "And since there's no way in hell that I'm about to let him go back to galavanting around Queens rescuing cats outta trees and stopping bike thieves, it's all he's gonna get."

Steve gave a nod. "I agree. I know he's strong and smart as a whip, but he's still far too young to be an official Avenger." He broke off, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. "And I honestly don't know if I'll ever think he's old enough to become an official Avenger."

"That's 'cause he won't be, babe," Tony stated. "I don't care what he says or how much he begs, he's still just a kid."

"He's _our_ kid, sweetheart," Steve said gently. He held out his hand, gathering Tony close and kissing his temple. "And I don't think we're being unreasonable with wanting to protect him. Even if he doesn't agree."

Tony tipped his forehead onto Steve's chest, moaning softly when Steve's palms glided up his back. "Hell no, we're not. The absolute last thing we need is for Senator Davis to start poking that pointy nose of his where it don't belong again, and that's exactly what would happen if Spider-Man suddenly reappeared after vanishing for months."

"Exactly. And Peter will come around eventually. Deep down he knows that we love him and want what's best for him. He's just got such a big heart, all he wants is to help people."

"Yeah, well, he gets that from you." Tony burrowed further into Steve's embrace, burying his nose into Steve's paint-splattered t-shirt and inhaling deeply, allowing the intoxicating scent of his husband to permeate throughout his body, relaxing him to his very bones. He liked to joke sometimes that if he could figure out a way to bottle Steve's scent, especially the hint of vanilla that always clung to his skin and hair no matter what else he was doing or how sweaty he was, that he could likely double his fortune.

"So, what're you working on in here?" he asked, jerking his head towards the large canvas set up near the floor-to-ceiling windows.

"Oh, just a little something I thought we could hang in our bedroom up at the Compound," Steve answered. He stepped back so Tony could get a closer look, and Tony couldn't help but feel a bit misty as his eyes swept across the practically life-like portrait of himself, Steve, and Peter, all sitting around the bonfire up at the Compound. The three of them were all smiles, with Tony's head resting on Steve's shoulder and Peter busy pulling apart an especially gooey roasted marshmallow, his huge brown eyes innocent and happy.

It was the perfect complement to the painting that hung in their Tower bedroom, the one of the three of them celebrating Steve's ninety-second birthday on the beach in Malibu, only a few days before their home was destroyed by the Winter Soldier.

Just like the scene in front of him had been only a few days before the attack at the lake.

"It's so goddamn gorgeous, honey," Tony whispered. "I swear you could open up your own art gallery. You'd have people lining the sidewalks for blocks to buy one of your creations."

Steve blushed at the compliment, giving Tony that "aw shucks" smile of his that he always gave whenever Tony praised his artistic ability.

"I'm not sure I'd want to show these paintings off to the world," he said. "They're of our family, and I like keeping our family close."

"Absolutely no harm in doing that," said Tony. "But even so, I'm sure Pepper's mentioned something to you about my modern art collection that's just sitting in storage, hasn't she? It's worth millions, but both of our homes are completely decked out in Steve Rogers originals because I like 'em better."

"Well, I think you might be a bit biased," Steve said, the dimple on his right cheek making an appearance as he smiled. Tony was such a sucker for that dimple. If he'd been a poet he would've written sonnets for that dimple. "But I'll admit I wouldn't mind getting to see that art collection sometime."

"I can ask Pepper about it the next time I talk to her," Tony said, rather sheepishly. "'Cause I honestly don't even remember where she has it stored, so—"

"Speaking of Ms Potts, sir," JARVIS cut in. "She is indeed on the line."

Tony's eyebrows shot up, and he glanced at Steve, shrugging. "Oh, well, speak of the devil. Go ahead and put her through, J."

A second later Pepper's pretty face filled the wall monitor. She was sitting at the grand desk in her Stark Industries office surrounded by what appeared to be personnel files, twisting a pen in her hands and looking rather harried.

"Hey guys, I hope I'm not interrupting anything, but—"

"JARVIS wouldn't've put you through if you were," Tony said, even as he slipped his hand behind Steve to pinch his ass, chuckling when Steve flinched and shot him a glare.

"Yeah, well, that's probably a good thing," Pepper said with wide eyes. She tapped the files in front of her with her pen. "Anyway, Tony, I have a favour to ask of you. I just got a bunch of performance reviews to sign off on, and as I've been going through them I've been noticing a few… discrepancies, I guess is a good word. I was wondering if you wouldn't mind—?"

"Yeah, sure, I can take a look at 'em, no problem," Tony said. "What kind of discrepancies are you noticing?"

Pepper gave him a relieved smile. "Well, they're all from the R&D Department, or I wouldn't even be bothering you with them. Mainly what I've noticed is that the project leader signing off on the reviews is giving the exact same comments to most of his subordinates, which to me makes it look like he's not even reading them, which in a company this size just isn't acceptable, and—"

"It's all right, Pep. Just have Happy bring 'em up sometime in the next couple of days and I'll take a look. It's not a problem."

"Oh, thank you so much," Pepper said as she slumped back in her chair. "I'll have Happy bring them up tonight actually, I'd like if they could be completed as soon as possible. There are a few project leaders who like to drag their feet with reviews, and then we wind up reviewing work that was done over six months ago, and, well, like I said, that's just not acceptable."

"Which is why you're the lady in charge, Pep," Tony said proudly. At the moment he couldn't honestly remember if the company had even conducted regular performance reviews when he'd been CEO. "But just out of curiosity, who's the project leader that's got you concerned?" _Hopefully it isn't someone that I hired… _

"Aahh," Pepper said as she opened the topmost file, scanning down the page. "Qu—Quin—Quentin? I think it says?" She tilted the file sideways, narrowing her eyes. "His signature looks like chicken scratch, but I'm pretty sure it says Quentin Beck. Or maybe it's Bock?… I don't know, something like that."

Tony tapped his chin, giving Steve a quizzical look. "Nah, doesn't sound familiar. JARVIS?"

"Yes, sir. Quentin Beck is indeed employed as a project leader in the Stark Industries Research and Development department. He holds a Master's Degree in Engineering from Stanford University, and has been employed at Stark Industries for almost exactly ten years."

"Ten years," Tony muttered under his breath. He had just started consulting for SHIELD almost exactly ten years ago, which meant that he would have delegated more of the hiring responsibilities to other people around that same time.

"Ah, maybe Obie hired him," he added. "Like I said, I'll take a look and let you know if I find anything wonky."

"Thank you, Tony, I really appreciate it," Pepper said. "Between the new SI building going up in India and the new tablets about to be announced, I'm pretty much swamped here. Not to mention all of the requests for assistance from the Stark Relief Foundation that we've been getting lately."

"And I can't think of anyone better qualified to handle it," Tony said proudly. "Thanks, Pep."

"Anytime," Pepper said with a wide smile. "Talk to you guys soon."

Steve turned to Tony as soon as the monitor went dark, his worry wrinkle on prominent display.

"Does stuff like that happen a lot at Stark Industries?" he asked. "Pepper seemed pretty concerned."

"Nah, Pepper's just concerned because she's one of the most well-organised, Type-A people I've ever met," Tony assured him. "It's the main reason why she was such a good assistant. She can crack a whip almost as well as you can, which, if you haven't noticed yet, someone like me happens to need every now and then."

The corners of Steve's lips twitched into a smirk as he reached for Tony's waist. "Oh, really? I can't say that I'd noticed."

"You're such a damn terrible liar, Rogers," Tony said, matching Steve's smirk. "You're lucky I love you."

"Yes, I am," Steve said, in all seriousness. "But you're still sure this isn't anything to worry about?"

Tony wound his arms around Steve's neck, rubbing the back of it. "I'm sure. Like Pepper said, she's pretty much slammed right now, and in her position she shouldn't be worrying about something as mundane as performance reviews, but she does anyway because she's that good at what she does. I'm just taking a tiny bit of her workload off of her, nothing more than that. And if this engineer Beck is anything like me, then he'd rather be doing anything else besides filling out performance reviews. I promise, honey, it's no big deal."

Steve heaved out a sigh, pecking Tony on the nose. "I hate how paranoid I've gotten lately."

"I hate to say it, but part of it comes with being a parent, babe," Tony said gently. "You should've seen me the day I brought Pete home from the hospital. I'd had the entire house deep-cleaned from top to bottom three separate times, had all the video monitors installed, had plenty of diapers and formula and baby clothes and everything else on hand, and then as soon as we stepped through the door, like literally as soon as I set foot inside the house, I completely panicked. Like, Rhodey had to talk me down from the ceiling type of panic. I hadn't been home the entire time Pete was in the hospital, and as he got better his nurses had let me do as much of his care as possible so I knew exactly what I needed to do for him, but it was like as soon as we were home, I just felt completely helpless. Nothing had changed except our location, but I still felt like I didn't have a clue on what to do with him. And he was just sitting there in his car seat, looking up at me with those huge brown doe eyes of his, and I was just frozen. I couldn't move."

He felt Steve's smile against his temple. Steve always loved hearing stories about Peter's childhood, and would often ask Tony for them on particularly bad nights.

"So, what did you do?" he murmured.

"Well, like I said, Rhodey pretty much had to talk me down from the ceiling, and after that I just kinda stared at Pete for awhile, until he started to fidget and squirm. Pete never liked being in his car seat or stroller all that much, he always preferred being held, so it didn't take long for him to get antsy. And then when I didn't pick him up right away, he started to cry, and—"

He broke off then, swallowing back tears. "I could never stand to see him cry, Steve, not _ever_, so I had no choice but to pick him up. And then I tucked him to my chest, with his tiny head resting over my heart, and he grabbed onto my shirt with his little fist and fell asleep in about three minutes. And once he was out, Rhodey made sure that there were bottles and diapers within reach and took off. And then it was just the two of us. And I didn't let Pete out of my sight for longer than a few seconds until Rosa came to live with us."

Steve's jaw tightened at the mention of Peter's former nanny. "I can't say that's a bad thing since she ended up being tied to HYDRA," he muttered. "And you told me that Peter always preferred you anyway, right?"

"Yeah, and I honestly didn't feel all that comfortable leaving him, even when he got older. Used to drive Obie nuts when I'd bring him to the office. I had an entire section of it cordoned off for him to play in, and he never bothered anyone 'cause all my employees were just in love with him, but all Obie did was complain about his toys scratching up the floor." He scoffed, shaking his head as the guilt welled up inside his belly. "Jesus, Steve. I was such a goddamn _idiot!_"

"Nope, none of that kinda talk now," Steve said with a frown. "You're an amazing father, Tony, and I know it because I see it with my own eyes every single day. Peter's so lucky to have you."

Tony attempted a smile as he looked up at his husband. "Yeah, maybe. But by that logic he's even luckier to have the both of us. You were born to be a dad, babe. You're a natural at it, and Pete could see that way back when he first met you. And since he's smarter than me it took me a bit longer, but—"

Steve silenced him with a soft kiss, gliding his palms up Tony's back. "That's all that matters to me, sweetheart," he whispered. "I love you and Peter more than anything, and I'll do whatever it takes to keep you both safe, you know I will."

"Yeah, I know," Tony said against Steve's chest. He glanced at the clock on the wall, noting that it was time to pick Peter up from school and grabbed Steve's hand, interlacing their fingers.

"C'mon, Papa, it's time to pick up the kid."

* * *

**_I can't wait to see what you think! Please don't hesitate to leave me a review! :)_**


	3. Chapter 3

"Pardon me, Master Peter, but Sergeant Barnes is asking for permission to enter the penthouse," JARVIS suddenly said, startling Peter such that he knocked his pen onto the kitchen floor despite the UI's quiet tone. Dad had reprogrammed JARVIS to speak more quietly once his enhancements started to emerge, but nine times out of ten whenever Peter was alone and concentrating on something, JARVIS still managed to startle him.

"Yeah, tell Uncle Bucky it's okay, JARVIS," Peter answered as he bent over to retrieve the pen, rapidly flipping it around his thumb as he reread the paragraph he'd just written on his Decathlon essay. The essay was already clocking in at over twenty-one pages, but as usual whenever Peter found himself fascinated with a topic, he now couldn't seem to stop. He had already exhausted the discussion on the development of the two polio vaccines and had moved onto discussing the testing of vaccines on the nation's military during wartime, something both Papa and Uncle Bucky had experience with.

And the fact that Gwen had been boasting about the length of her essay the other day at practise had absolutely nothing to do with Peter's renewed motivation. Absolutely nothing at all.

"What's he coming up for?" Peter added, squinting at his laptop screen as he added a missed apostrophe. Papa was out running with Uncle Sam, and Dad was on yet another emergency conference call with the Department of Damage Control, and it wasn't like Uncle Bucky to just ask to come up without being invited.

"Mr Stark has agreed to commence repairs on Sergeant Barnes' prosthetic arm," JARVIS replied. "Apparently it suffered some damage during the battle in Miami."

"Down in Miami?" Peter exclaimed. "But that was months ago! If his arm's been damaged for that long then why didn't he say anything sooner?"

"I am unsure, Master Peter. Perhaps it would be best to ask Sergeant Barnes that question yourself?"

"Yeah, I will."

Gathering up all of his books and loose papers, Peter stacked them neatly next to his laptop and headed towards the living room, arriving just as the elevator doors opened to reveal Uncle Bucky. Peter immediately smiled at the sight of him, even as he felt a pang of sadness at the tentative, almost embarrassed expression on Uncle Bucky's face. He had been living in the Tower for over a year already, but it still often seemed—or at least seemed so to Peter—as if Uncle Bucky still couldn't believe that he was allowed to live there, much less interact with the rest of their family.

"Hey, Uncle Bucky!" Peter said, with probably more enthusiasm than was necessary. It had the intended effect though when Uncle Bucky gave him a huge smile in return, holding his arms open for a hug.

"Hey, Петр," he said, fondly ruffling Peter's hair. "You doing okay?"

"Oh yeah, just working on my homework," answered Peter. For some weird reason that he couldn't explain, he loved that Uncle Bucky always reverted to Russian whenever he spoke one of their names. It just sounded so cool and mysterious.

"You know that essay I told you about, about the vaccines and stuff? I've been working on that."

"Still? Isn't it already twice as long as it needs to be?" Uncle Bucky asked. "What more're you adding?"

Peter gave him a rather sheepish grin, shrugging. "Well… I added a bit more stuff about the use of vaccines in soldiers during the war, since you and Papa both mentioned being given a whole bunch of shots before you were shipped out on your assignments. And then… well… there's just so much interesting stuff out there about how they used to treat common illnesses and injuries that was just totally, like, _totally_ so completely _wrong_ that it's almost unbelievable that people back then survived at all." He grabbed onto Uncle Bucky's hand and led him into the kitchen, showing him a book he had found at the library on early nineteenth century medical treatments.

"Papa told me way back when we were still in Afghanistan that his doctors made him smoke cigarettes when he was little to help treat his asthma, which is just so totally ridiculous that it's, well, it's just _stupid,_" Peter began. He pulled a chair over for Uncle Bucky to join him and opened the book, pointing to the chapter on asthma treatments. "But it even says so right here. Since they didn't have inhaler technology back then, I guess that was the only way they knew of to get the asthma drugs down into his lungs. But even then, Papa told me the drugs didn't really work all that well and that they made him hallucinate too, which is just freaky anyway."

"Yeah, I actually saw Стиви a few times when he was sick in the hospital back then," said Uncle Bucky. "When he'd let me see him, at least. Стиви never liked too many people seeing him when he was sick, so most of the time he would refuse visitors."

"Mmm. Well, that hasn't changed at all," Peter muttered. "Papa's never liked talking about what he was like before he got his serum all that much, only when I ask him something specific, and he never liked for me to see him when he got hurt during missions and was in the hospital. I guess he thinks it makes him look weak, but—"

"Ah, he's always been like that," said Uncle Bucky. "Стиви has one of the biggest hearts I've ever seen in a person. He was always looking to help people, even when he and his ma barely had a roof over their heads or food on the table. But he always hated being so small and sickly. He would pick fights with guys that were twice or even three times his size, but then he always hated when I'd jump in to make sure that he didn't get killed. Even if he never said anything, I knew he hated it. It helped a bit after he got the serum, but he still never liked showing any pain or anything he might consider a weakness, especially around the rest of the Commandos."

Peter tapped the tip of his pen against the book, his lips pressed tightly together. No wonder Papa refused to get help for the nightmares that plagued him almost every night. He tried so hard to hide them from Peter, but like Dad, Papa often discounted—or simply forgot—how well Peter could hear now, especially in the middle of the night when there wasn't anything else happening in the penthouse. And while his dads' bedroom could be soundproofed—thank _God _for soundproofing!—it never was while they were sleeping, so Peter could hear Papa's shouts and screams of terror when the nightmares hit almost every single time.

And Dad did call Papa out sometimes on what he coined, "his 1940's mentality" and how ridiculous he could be about certain things because of it, but for some reason Papa was absolutely refusing to see that he really needed help, and Peter knew it was causing Dad a whole lot of stress, which Dad really didn't need on top of everything else that he was already stressed about. Papa wasn't the only one who worried about Dad's heart, slightly enhanced genes or not.

The whole thing pretty much sucked. Big time.

"Well, anyway," Peter said, clearing his throat. "Have you ever heard the phrase, 'blow smoke up your ass'?"

Uncle Bucky's lips twitched into a smile. "Yeah, I have. Some of the guys in my Army squadron liked to say it when they thought someone was bullshittin' 'em. Why?"

Peter grinned as he flipped through the book, finding the page he had marked the night before. "Wanna know where it came from?"

"It's in that book?" Uncle Bucky asked with wide eyes. "Um… do I actually wanna know?"

"Well, I thought it was kinda funny," Peter answered. "Apparently in the eighteenth century doctors didn't know how to treat hernias, especially inguinal hernias, so they somehow came up with the idea that shooting tobacco smoke up the affected person's rectum would somehow cure the hernia."

Uncle Bucky's lower jaw dropped, snapping closed a second later as his eyes narrowed and he squirmed uncomfortably on his chair. "Um… well… that's just… that sounds absolutely _horrible_, is what that sounds like. Do I wanna know why in the _hell_ they thought that might work?"

Peter sniggered as he shook his head. "No, the book doesn't say. It does say that the so-called 'treatment' was never very successful though."

"Yeah. Can't imagine why," said Uncle Bucky. "Jesus, that makes our 1940's medicine sound high-tech!"

"Well, it kinda was, when you think about it," Peter said with a shrug. "I mean, Papa's serum still hasn't ever been exactly replicated, and whatever they gave you was—"

Peter immediately clapped his hand over his mouth, his eyes scanning rapidly across Uncle Bucky's face, where about a hundred different emotions were crossing all at once. "Oh my God, Uncle Bucky, I'm so sorry! I just blurt out things without thinking sometimes, my Dad says I get it from him, and I just—!"

"It's okay, Петр," Uncle Bucky said gently, and a stab of pain pierced Peter's heart at the deep sadness in his eyes. "I'm… it's okay."

"Um… so… JARVIS said you came up 'cause your arm's acting up?" Peter asked past the large knot in his throat. How could he have been so completely thoughtless?

Uncle Bucky sniffed, extending his metal left arm and rotating it at the elbow. "Yeah, it's been stickin' at the elbow joint ever since the bunker battle," he said. "I'm guessin' there's debris or somethin' stuck down there somewhere, so I asked if your dad could take a look at it for me."

"Oh. But why—?"

"Pardon me, Master Peter, but Mr Stark reports that his telephone call has concluded," JARVIS interrupted. "He is ready for Sergeant Barnes now."

Uncle Bucky pursed his lips as he stood up from his chair, placing it back into its place at the table and looking more nervous than Peter had ever seen him before.

"Do you want me to come in there with you?" Peter asked. "I'd kinda like to see how your arm works too, if that's okay. I think it's really cool."

"You sure I wouldn't be takin' you away from your schoolwork?" Uncle Bucky asked after a short pause.

"Nah, the actual Decathlon competition isn't even until April, so I have loads of time to finish the essay. I'm just—"

"An overachiever?" Uncle Bucky said with a slight smirk. "Like your dads?"

Peter felt his cheeks flush hot. "Yeah. I guess I am."

"Well, nothin' wrong with that." He made a move towards the kitchen exit, but Peter grabbed onto his hand, halting him.

"Uncle Bucky?"

"Yeah?"

"Um… you don't have to be scared of my dad," Peter said, rather tentatively. "He doesn't—he doesn't hate you. He doesn't even dislike you."

Uncle Bucky looked down at the floor, studying the tops of his shoes as his teeth worked over his bottom lip.

"He should," he finally said, low and so thick with emotion that Peter's own throat tightened. "Тони should hate me. I killed his ma. I destroyed your home. I almost killed Стиви, and you, and…" He broke off, shaking his head sadly. "Vivorum memini nec possum oblivisci mortuorum."

Peter blinked, not understanding the foreign words. "What does that mean?"

"It's Latin, and it means, 'I remember the living, and I can't forget the dead'," Uncle Bucky said. "Сэм taught it to me, said it was fitting since I'll always be trying to get back what HYDRA stole from me, and at the same time I'll never be able to fully let go of what I did."

"But it was the Winter Soldier who did all that, it wasn't really _you,_" Peter said firmly. "You didn't know what you were doing, I know it. I know it because I saw it through both your eyes _and _my own, and—" He broke off then, suppressing a hard shudder as he recalled the burn of the Aminacin drug flowing into his veins as various nonsensical words were repeatedly chanted around him. He still couldn't remember all that much of being brought to the bunker or the battle that followed, mainly just bits and pieces of things, but Papa had told him that Obie and Killian's ultimate goal had been to convert Peter into another Winter Soldier, and that they had very nearly managed to do it.

And Peter still had no idea how he'd been able to fight against it.

"And my dad knows that," Peter finished. "He knows you didn't have a choice, and there's no way he would've said you could stay here if he didn't believe it."

For a long time Uncle Bucky stood still as a rock, his face impassive. Finally, he gave a short nod.

"Thanks, Петр," he said softly. "Maybe someday I'll believe it too."

Peter let out a heavy sigh. "Well, it's a start, at least." He tugged gently on Uncle Bucky's hand. "Now c'mon, my dad's waiting for you."

* * *

Tony stood next to his workstation as Barnes—Bucky—and Peter entered the lab, his hands clenched into tight fists at his sides as he attempted to take deep breaths. Conversations with the Department of Damage Control were never what he would call enjoyable, as trying to accomplish anything government-related had always been a royal pain in the ass, but the last several discussions had been particularly frustrating. Apparently someone, or more likely a group of someones, had decided that the convoys transporting artefacts from the Triskelion wreckage sites in Washington D.C. were the perfect targets for robbery attempts. So far the perpetrators hadn't been able to make off with anything of importance thanks to the newly upgraded Iron Legion, but as usual, trying to thwart future attempts had fallen squarely on Tony's shoulders.

And while Tony was rather used to having to take care of things on his own, the fact that Senator Davis had recently been appointed to the Armed Services Committee—and rather suspiciously, if Tony was being completely honest—had meant that the bureaucratic red tape was even thicker than usual. Senator Davis seemed to thoroughly enjoy making Tony's job as difficult as possible.

_If that asshole thinks that I can adequately guard a convoy of trucks without using the Iron Legion, then he's even dumber than he looks._

"Dad?" Peter said as he sat down at the counter, eyeing Tony with concern. "You okay?"

Tony gave a quick nod, deliberately relaxing his shoulders and unclenching his fists the way Sam had taught him. Peter had always been far too perceptive for his own good, and Tony had never been all that great at hiding his emotional state, especially when he was already stressed.

Which was very likely the reason why Barnes had asked Steve to ask him to look at Barnes' arm, rather than asking Tony himself. Tony knew Barnes still thought that he had to walk on eggshells around him, and if he was being truly honest, he really didn't know how he felt about it. On the one hand, according to Steve, Barnes didn't hesitate to dive right into a huge vat of fire to rescue Peter at the end of the bunker battle, and Tony knew Steve would never lie to him about something like that.

But then again, Barnes, or rather, the Winter Soldier, not only killed Tony's parents in cold blood, but almost managed to kill Steve twice _and_ completely destroyed their Malibu home.

And now just a couple of years or so later, he was living in their Tower, and Peter was calling him 'uncle'.

It was all just a bit discombobulating.

"Yeah, bud, just a bit frustrated," Tony finally said, huffing out a sharp breath. "You know how much I love talking to those government folks."

"Mmm, okay," Peter said warily. He jerked his head towards Barnes—_Bucky_, who was standing rather awkwardly next to Peter's chair, nervously eyeing DUM-E who was perched over in his usual corner_._ "Uncle Bucky says his arm's been acting up ever since the bunker battle."

"Yeah, that's what Steve told me." He caught Bucky's eye, motioning for him to come closer. "It all right if JARVIS takes a scan of your arm? The holograms can be magnified, helps me see the problem faster."

"It won't hurt at all, Uncle Bucky, I promise," Peter added when Bucky hesitated. "And it only takes a second."

He waited until Bucky gave a nod. Steve had asked Tony before he'd left for his run to be extra careful with anything that might trigger memories of Bucky's torture and captivity at the hands of HYDRA. Unfortunately, since Bucky's memories were all messed up due to Zola butchering his brain way back when he was first converted, not even Bucky was aware of everything that he had been through, and Tony was in no mood to find something new out now.

"All right J, give me a scan of the prosthetic and magnify, yeah?"

"As you wish, sir," JARVIS replied. Bucky flinched when the scanning beam appeared, but thankfully it was over before anything else could happen.

"Okay, so… let's see what we got here," Tony said once the hologram appeared. He ran his fingers along his goatee as he examined it, his eyes narrowing in on a layer of concrete dust that had settled deep into the elbow joint. The whole time Bucky stood ramrod straight, his jaw tight and his eyes intense.

"It's okay, Uncle Bucky," Peter said softly. He hopped down from his chair, taking Bucky's hand and leading him over to the hologram, pointing to the offending dust. "See? Dad's already found the problem. You've just got some dust stuck down there, which is really easy to fix. Right, Dad?"

"Oh yeah, piece of cake," answered Tony. "Nothing a little pressurised air can't take care of."

"See?" said Peter. "Piece of cake."

Again, Tony waited until Bucky gave a nod before grabbing his pressurised air container. "Pete, you wanna grab him a chair? And I'm gonna need you to help hold his arm steady, all right?"

"No problem!" Peter said. He quickly slid a chair over next to the hologram, indicating for Bucky to sit down. Then he handed Bucky an extra pair of protective glasses and took Bucky's metal hand, bending his arm at the elbow to allow Tony to access the outside of it.

Tony had just put on his own glasses and was about to press the button when he paused, remembering Steve's warning about possible triggers.

"Um… this thing can be pretty loud, and there's quite a bit of dust stuck in here so it might take a few minutes," he said. "You wanna borrow a pair of Pete's earplugs while I clean it out?"

Bucky glanced up at him then, his tight jaw twitching. "Y-yeah," he stammered softly. "Thanks."

"I'll go and grab 'em!" Peter exclaimed before Tony could even look in his direction, and then was racing out of the lab a second later. Tony stood back, still holding the air canister as Bucky looked up at him again, a tentative curiosity in his eyes.

"Did—did you build that yourself?" he asked, indicating the air canister. "Петр told me that you build most of your own equipment."

"Oh, this? Yeah, I did," answered Tony. "I like to tinker with cars, or at least, I did; don't really have the free time to do all that much of it anymore, and this lets me alter the air pressure in the increments that I like. Some of the older cars need to be babied a bit more than the newer ones, so…"

"Oh," Bucky said as he looked away, so softly that Tony had to strain to hear him. "Хауард liked cars too."

"Who?"

Bucky shook his head, his eyes flicking nervously up at Tony and then flitting away just as fast. "Хауард," he repeated. "Your—your f-father. Стив and I, we saw him at the World's Fair the night before I shipped out, and he had… he had a floating car."

Tony's heart stuttered at the mention of his father, his fingers tightening around the air canister. "Yeah, Steve's told me that story," he said shortly. "You remember it, eh?"

"Some of it," answered Bucky. "Bits and pieces. Стив helped fill in some of the blanks, and then Петр showed me a few pictures that helped a little."

"Yeah, well, that doesn't surprise me. Pete's always bending over backwards trying to help. He gets that from Steve."

"From Стив?" Bucky asked, his eyebrows knitting together. "But Петр is not—"

"No, he's not," Tony cut in. "Steve adopted him, but they don't share any blood. You wouldn't know it, though. Pete's so much like Steve it's almost scary."

"He's a lot like you too, Тони," Bucky said quietly. He looked down at his metal hand, flexing it in his lap. "Some of the things you do and say, Петр does and says the same."

Tony instinctively frowned, managing to catch himself just before Bucky glanced back up at him. It had always been difficult for Tony to hear people compare Peter to him, and this was no exception. Peter was… well, he was just so _good._ He was everything that was pure and innocent in a world that seemed to be on a lightning-fast track to hell, and Tony…

Well, three years ago Tony's first instinct would have been to say he just _wasn't_, but then Steve came along and managed to change things. Before Steve, Tony's main focus had always been Peter and Peter alone, pouring almost all of his attention and energy into his son's well-being and future, and leaving very little left over for either himself or the company he was supposed to be running.

But now, things were different. And while Tony still channeled a lot of his energy into Peter, he now had a partner with which to share the burden. Someone who loved and protected both himself and his son without hesitation or prejudice, someone whose arms chased away the horrible memories of the freezing-cold Afghanistan cave when they woke him in the middle of the night, and whose voice spoke words of such devotion and adoration that Tony often was convinced that he was a poet as well as an artist.

With Steve, Tony felt like maybe he was just a bit more like Peter than himself.

"Yeah, maybe. I s'pose it was inevitable since he is a Stark after all, the poor kid," Tony said instead. He looked up as Peter reentered the lab, a set of his earplugs clutched in one hand.

"Who's a poor kid?" Peter asked.

"Oh, just that girl in your class who keeps thinking she's smarter than you," Tony answered without missing a beat. "'Cause we all know it's not possible. How's that Decathlon essay coming, by the way?"

Peter's round cheeks immediately flushed a deep pink, causing both Tony and Bucky to smirk. "Um… it's coming. I was telling Uncle Bucky some stuff about it while you were talking to the Damage Control people."

"Ah huh. And by the time you're finished with it you'll probably have written an entire doctoral dissertation, just like last time," Tony said proudly. "And we'll all be there to watch you give it."

"Really?" Peter exclaimed. "Even you, Uncle Bucky? Oh, that'd be so awesome if you could be there too!"

"I hope so, Петр," Bucky answered. "Стив told me that he talked with Директор Фыри, and he said he was hoping to get me a military ID and driver's licence within the next few months, once—" He broke off, swallowing hard as he glanced up at Tony. "He said he's just gotta tie up some loose ends first."

"Well, Fury is one of the best spies that ever spied, so if anyone can do it, he can," Tony said. "So it should only be a matter of time." He didn't add that ever since the whole Project Insight fiasco, Fury's name didn't really carry the same kind of weight and recognition that it had before, and that he might not actually be able to completely rid the world's databases of all traces tying James Buchanan Barnes to the legendary assassin known as the Winter Soldier. No sense in taking the wind out of Peter's sails unless it was absolutely necessary.

"Oh, I really hope you can come, Uncle Bucky!" Peter continued. "The Decathlon finals are held in the spring, and that's a really nice time to be in D.C. with all the cherry trees blooming and stuff. And then we could take you around to see some of the landmarks! I bet you'd love 'em! Papa and Dad even got to see the Smithsonian exhibit on the Howling Commandos on one of their trips down there!"

"Let's just wait and see what happens first, buddy, yeah?" Tony said gently. "Now, do you wanna work on Bucky's arm, or should I?"

Peter's eyebrows shot up so high they disappeared under his hair. "Oh! Can I?"

"Sure, bud," Tony said with a smile. He'd never been able to resist Peter's infectious enthusiasm. He handed Peter the air container and his glasses, tapping Bucky lightly on the shoulder. "That okay with you?"

"Да," replied Bucky.

"All right." Very carefully, Tony picked up Bucky's metal arm, holding it slightly bent at the elbow and donned his own glasses. He thought about grabbing a set of his arm gauntlets just in case Bucky suddenly decided to flip out, but decided against it. Bucky had only been violent with Peter during their very first meeting, when he had first arrived at the Tower and was still pretty out of it, and as much as Tony hated to admit it, Peter had been able to handle himself just fine. Tony sometimes didn't like to admit just how strong Peter was now, but that didn't mean he didn't believe it.

"Double-check the hologram first, Pete, yeah?"

"Yep, got it."

"Okay. Now, see the problem?"

"Yep."

"All right." Tony glanced down at Bucky, who gave him a quick nod. "We're ready."

Bucky jumped slightly at the first sharp whistling sound of the pressurised air, but kept his eyes firmly on Peter the whole time, watching his face and smiling at his boyish joy at getting to work on something so unusual as a high-tech metal prosthetic arm. In addition to his almost-constantly running chemistry experiments, Peter had been assisting Tony with his work practically since he'd been old enough to walk, but he still approached nearly every new project with the same excitement as if it was the very first thing he'd ever been allowed to participate in.

And Tony loved him for it.

"Okay," Peter finally said about fifteen minutes later, brushing bits of dust out of his curls. "I think I'm done."

"All right, let's take a look," said Tony. "J, another scan, if you don't mind?"

"Right away, sir."

"Looks good to me, Uncle Bucky!" Peter said, squinting as he examined the new hologram. "I don't see anymore dust in there. Dad?"

Tony shrugged, removing his glasses. "Your eyes are better than mine, buddy."

Bucky rotated the arm, flexing the elbow. "It feels much better now, Петр, thank you."

"Yeah, you're welcome! Anytime!"

"And thank you, Тони," Bucky added. He got to his feet, holding Tony's gaze. "Стив is lucky to have you. For a long time, he never—he never thought that he'd—that he'd be able to have a family. You know… because—"

"Yeah, I know," Tony cut in as he looked away, busying himself with tidying up his workstation. "Things are a bit different now than they were in the forties, as I'm sure Pete and Sam have explained."

"Yeah, they have," said Bucky. "But still… he's a lucky guy."

Tony could only nod, not at all comfortable discussing the relationship he had with his husband with the man Steve had confessed to once being in love with, and even less so in front of Peter. Deep down Tony knew he had nothing to worry about, that his petty insecurities were all in his head, but he still didn't enjoy being reminded of them.

The awkward silence was broken by DUM-E, whirring over to start sweeping up the dust strewn across the floor.

"Do you have to go now, Uncle Bucky?" asked Peter. "Would you wanna play a game of chess?"

"Um, maybe tomorrow, kiddo," Bucky answered. "I'm supposed to meet with Сэм once he and Стив get back."

"Captain Rogers has just returned to the penthouse, sir," announced JARVIS.

"Thanks, J," Tony said.

"All right," Peter said glumly. "Then I guess I'll see you tomorrow?"

"If it's all right with your dads, Петр," answered Bucky. "I know you're all pretty busy."

"I'm hardly ever too busy for chess," Peter said. "You can come up for lunch, and then we can play afterward?"

Bucky glanced over at Tony, who waved a dismissive hand. "You know it's fine with me, Pete, as long as you're done with your homework."

Peter rolled his eyes. "I finished all of it last night, Dad, you know that."

"'Cause you're an overachiever, right?" Bucky said fondly, ruffling Peter's hair. "I'll see you tomorrow, then."

Tony frowned as he watched Bucky go, grateful that Steve hadn't decided to stop by the lab on his way to get cleaned up from his run. Tony was admittedly very possessive of his husband, and especially with how damn sexy he was when he was all flushed and sweaty and panting after one of his hard runs. It tended to remind him of other times when Steve was flushed and sweaty and panting.

And as far as Tony was concerned, only he was allowed to see Steve like that.

"Dad?" Peter asked once Bucky had disappeared into the elevator. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine, Pete," Tony said, apparently too fast when Peter shot him a scowl.

"Yeah, sure you are," he said. "So you just happen to look like you ate something sour because—"

"I said I'm fine, Pete!" Tony snapped, cringing when Peter's eyes went wide. "No, no, don't be giving me those doe-eyes of yours, buddy. C'mere." He opened his arms, relieved when Peter walked right into them, tucking his head under Tony's chin. He buried his nose into Peter's thick curls, inhaling the faint green apple scent of the shampoo he had used ever since he was a toddler.

"Just a bit stressed, bud," he whispered. "I'm worried about Papa, and I'm worried about you, and all this goddamn government stuff isn't helping anything."

"And you're jealous of Uncle Bucky," Peter murmured into Tony's chest.

Tony froze. "I am _not—_"

"Yeah, you are," Peter interrupted. "And that doesn't make any sense at all, Dad. Like, _none._ And you know you don't have to worry about me, but—"

"Yeah, well, that kinda comes with the whole parenting gig, bud, and you know it," Tony said. He kissed the top of Peter's head, grateful he could still reach it with how fast Peter had been growing lately.

_How in the hell is he fifteen already? He was just a baby like three months ago!_

"I wish I could help you more," Peter mumbled. "Maybe then you wouldn't worry about everything so much."

Tony shook his head, squeezing his eyes closed as he hugged Peter even tighter. "Oh hell, buddy, you already do more than enough," he said. "And you're just a kid, you shouldn't have to be concerned about all this damn adult stuff."

Peter sighed, rubbing his nose on Tony's shirt. "You make it sound like I'm still three years old. I'm fifteen now, Dad, I can handle more than you think, especially when it involves my family. I could even be an Avenger if you and Papa would let me. To hell with that Senator and that stupid tabloid newspaper, you've seen me in training with the rest of the team. You know what I can do."

"Yeah, and like you said, you're fifteen, which by definition means you're not yet an adult. Too young to be an Avenger, bud." Tony kissed him again, then patted his back, chuckling when he heard Peter's stomach growl. "Guess that's the cue to see what Papa's making for dinner, yeah?"

"Mmm, fine. I gotta put my Decathlon stuff away first."

"Go on, then."

Tony watched Peter exit the lab, all skinny arms and legs topped with a mop of curly brown hair. The boy may have liked to think of himself as being older, he was a _teenager_, after all, but to Tony he was still just a kid, still just his little Petey, and he'd be damned if he would allow anything to happen to make his little Petey have to grow up any faster than he already was. And that included naming him an Avenger while he was only a sophomore in high school.

And Tony knew that Steve felt the same way, especially since he often lamented about the fact that he had missed out on the majority of Peter's childhood.

The sound of Steve's heavy footsteps approaching broke Tony from his thoughts, and he looked up, his heart doing the little fluttery thing it always did whenever Steve entered the room. He was obviously fresh from his shower, with his flushed cheeks and his still-damp hair combed back, wearing one of Tony's favourite blue t-shirts that matched his eyes and looking so unbelievably sexy that Tony's mouth suddenly went dry.

"God _damn_, if you're not a sight for sore eyes," Tony said as Steve's large hands slipped around his waist, drawing him right into one of his patented bear hugs. Tony immediately breathed in, allowing the glorious scent of his husband's aftershave mixed with just that slight touch of vanilla wash over him, feeling the stress seep from his body in waves.

"Peter told me you had another emergency call with Damage Control this afternoon," Steve said softly as he kissed Tony's cheek. "What's going on with them now?"

"Ah, just more of the same bullshi—I mean, nonsense, trying to make my job as difficult as possible," Tony muttered. He let out a loud moan as Steve's fingers threaded into his hair and pressed into his scalp, his knees nearly buckling. "Damn, babe, you keep that up and you're gonna have to carry me outta here."

"Mmm, well, that wouldn't be too horrible, would it?" Steve murmured. "Didn't you tell me once that you like it when I carry you?" He pressed his fingertips into Tony's scalp again, pulling an even louder moan from Tony's throat.

"Pretty sure I've told you that more than once, honeybunch," Tony said. "And I'm also pretty sure that Pete will riot if his dinner gets delayed any longer than absolutely necessary, so we should probably get going on it."

"Yeah, you're probably right," Steve agreed. He cupped Tony's cheek in one hand, brushing a soft kiss across his lips. "Were you able to fix Bucky's arm?"

Tony's belly gave a swoop at the mention of Bucky, but he chose to ignore it, stamping the ugly green demon back down into the dirt where it belonged.

"Oh yeah, he just had some dust embedded in the elbow joint. Pete and I took care of it."

Steve smiled, showing off the dimple that Tony was convinced could launch ships and start wars. "Thank you, sweetheart. I really appreciate it, and I know Bucky does too."

"Eh, I let Pete do most of the work. He's always been pretty enthralled with that metal arm."

"Well, then I know they both appreciated it," Steve answered. He pressed a quick kiss to Tony's temple then took his hand, interlacing their fingers. "Sam and I discussed my plans for the raids today on our run, and I'd like to go over them with you once Peter goes to bed, is that okay?"

Tony nodded, even as he stifled a sigh. Steve and Sam discussing the team's upcoming HYDRA raid on their run very likely meant that Steve once again managed to avoid discussing his nightmares that were steadily getting worse. Just a few nights prior, Steve even managed to completely chase Tony from the bed when he started thrashing around so badly that Tony couldn't contain him. He'd been just about ready to summon one of his suits when Steve finally managed to wake himself up, remnants of their tattered bedsheets clutched in his fists.

And neither of them had managed to get back to sleep again that night. Even after making love and with Steve holding Tony so tightly that he could barely breathe, he still hadn't been able to relax.

Something needed to change, and the sooner the better. Unfortunately, aside from the new security measures he was enacting, Tony had no idea where or how.

So instead he brought Steve's left hand to his lips, kissing the wedding ring on his finger.

Because no matter what, they were in it—whatever _it_ was—together.

"Sure, babe," he said. "Sounds good."

* * *

"You know, it is so not fair that you have not one, but _two_ living historians in your family," Ned said as he and Peter made their way from the lunchroom back to their lockers. "I mean, the history books that we have don't even tell half of the story, so how're people like me supposed to even know some of this stuff!"

"Shut up, Ned!" Peter hissed, wincing as a group of upperclassmen glanced their way as they walked by. "No one's supposed to know that Uncle Bucky's as old as Papa!"

"Oh, yeah. Sorry," Ned said with a wince. "But still! You're gonna have all these cool personal first-hand accounts of stuff in your essay, and no one else will!"

Peter grinned as he unlocked his locker. "Well, that's kinda the point, isn't it? It is a competition, right? A _team_ competition? Nothing wrong with having an edge on the opponents, right?"

Ned's eyes narrowed, then widened. "Oh yeah, that's true! Hey, that means you're like our secret weapon or something! That's so awesome!"

"I'll admit, it is pretty cool to be able to get the facts from people who actually lived through them instead of a book," Peter said as he pulled out his algebra textbook, balancing it on the pile in his arms. "But seriously dude, you gotta quit talking so loud about Uncle Bucky, okay? With all the new scrutiny the Avengers are under, we gotta be extra careful until we can get all his stuff sorted out."

"Oh yeah, yeah, no problem," Ned assured him. "I can be more careful."

"Mmm," Peter grumbled. He was starting to wish that he had figured out a better cover story for Uncle Bucky than just being Papa's old friend from the war. Technically, Uncle Bucky was still an international fugitive, and it was only through the extraordinary abilities of Dad and Director Fury that he'd been able to basically hide in plain sight within their family ever since they brought him to the Tower. He wasn't technically confined to the Tower, but he never left it alone, always had his metal arm covered by a jacket or hoodie, and never was gone for long periods of time.

And trying to get Uncle Bucky's name cleared was yet another thing causing Dad and Papa a bunch of stress, especially with the presidential election looming in just a few weeks. The sitting president was still very friendly to the Avengers, but according to the latest network predictions he wasn't currently doing well in the polls, and Peter knew that Dad and Papa were worried that he was going to lose the election.

And if he did lose the election, well… Peter didn't like thinking about what could happen. Dad and Papa had adamantly refused to publicly endorse any politicians, not wanting to give anyone the impression that the Avengers could be politically swayed. It was absolutely the right choice, but Peter still worried that it was going to come back and bite them at some point. Peter had had enough experience watching his father deal with various government agencies and committees to know that they always came with preformed or hidden agendas, none of which were ever beneficial to their family or to Stark Industries.

"So, where're your dads now?" Ned asked as they took their seats. They still in Iceland?"

"No, they left there the day before yesterday. They're in Mongolia now, I just talked to them last night."

Ned's eyebrows knitted together. "Mongolia? What's in Mongolia?"

Peter shrugged. "Other than a bunch of frozen plains and a couple HYDRA facilities, not too much."

"Oh. They know when they're gonna be back yet?"

"No. Hopefully soon though," Peter said. _And mainly for Papa's sake._ With Papa's stress levels already through the roof, Peter knew that having to travel across hundreds of kilometres of barren frozen countryside yet again wasn't helping him at all, and was probably causing Dad even more stress as well.

"Oh. Well, I hope it is soon, my Death Star set should be shipping in the next couple of days. We still gonna ask your Auntie Nat if she wants to help us build it?"

"As long as it's okay with my dads."

They both looked up as Gwen entered the classroom, balancing an inordinate amount of books in her arms, along with a laptop perched on the very top of the stack that looked to be dangerously close to sliding off.

So dangerously close, in fact, that as she shifted the stack of books to try and set them down on her desk one row over, the laptop proceeded to do just that. In a flash Peter shot forward, leaping across another desk and managing to catch the computer just before the corner would've hit the hard vinyl floor.

"Um…" Peter stammered as he stood back up, handing the laptop to Gwen. "You almost dropped your computer."

Gwen's eyes were as wide as saucers as she took the laptop from Peter's hand. "Yeah, I guess I did. Those are some pretty fast reflexes you've got there, Peter Stark-Rogers."

"Oh, yeah," Peter mumbled, his cheeks flushing hot. "I get—I get 'em from my dad. Takes pretty fast reflexes to pilot his Iron Man suits, so…"

"Oh, yeah, I'm sure it does," Gwen replied. "Thank you, though. My dad would've flipped if I would've broken my computer only six weeks into the school year."

Peter gave a nod, gulping. "Yeah. You're welcome."

Sliding back into his chair, Peter burrowed down into his hoodie, attempting to ignore Ned whose eyes were boring straight into Peter's skull.

"Dude!" Ned hissed just as their teacher stepped into the classroom. "That was like _the_ most awesomenest thing I've ever seen! You were seriously moving faster than lightning! How the hell'd you do that, you're usually so gawky and awkward!"

"Um… thanks?" Peter said, frowning in bewilderment. That had been a bit too close for his comfort, but it wasn't like he could just sit there and watch Gwen break her computer. "I guess Auntie Nat's ballet lessons are finally starting to pay off. She's been trying to teach me to move like that since we started, so…"

"Well, damn. If she can teach you to move like that, I might ask her for some ballet lessons myself!" Ned exclaimed. "You think she'd teach me if I asked her?"

"I dunno, Ned, maybe," answered Peter. "Can you please just shut up about it now?"

Ned shot him an odd look. "Why the hell are you so uptight all of a sudden? Just because—?"

"I'm not uptight! What makes you think I'm being uptight? Just 'cause I helped Gwen not drop her computer doesn't mean that I'm uptight!"

"Yeah, it does!" Ned insisted. "Or… well… you know what I mean. Like, ever since the school year started you've been acting so jumpy and paranoid, and just… well, just _weird!_ Or even weirder than usual. Is it because you had to go in that witness protection thingy last winter when your dads were gone on that long mission?"

Peter gripped his pen in his hands, trying to take deep breaths from his diaphragm like Uncle Sam had taught him to do when he was feeling especially stressed. "I've always been kinda weird, Ned," he said evenly. "Maybe it's just taken you till now to figure that out."

"Mmm, sure," Ned said, unconvinced. "I s'pose you can think that if it makes you feel better, but I still say that you haven't been the same since."

Rolling his eyes, Peter slumped forward, resting his chin in his hand as the teacher began her lecture and trying not to think about _that _"mission".

That mission, which wasn't a mission as much as it was an outright kidnapping by a pair of madmen and their super soldier minions, and one that very nearly cost both Dad and Peter their lives. But since Peter couldn't tell Ned anything about what really happened, he had to stick with the cover story that he was just locked in some safehouse somewhere while his dads and the rest of the team took care of everything, instead of the self-inflicted coma he was in after almost having his mind completely scrambled by Loki's sceptre.

Just like he couldn't tell Ned the truth about how Dad had lingered near death for days in the hospital while Uncle Bruce and Helen Cho worked round-the-clock to develop an antidote to the Aminacin that was trying to kill him, and how messed-up Papa was now because of it.

And besides all that, he couldn't even tell Ned how he'd managed to catch Gwen's computer before it hit the floor, because no one except their Avengers family, Dr Cho, and Director Fury knew the truth about Peter's enhancements.

_I hate having to keep so many secrets!_ Peter thought. _It just really freaking sucks!_

And all that plus the fact that he really, really, _really_ wished he could resume his Spider-Man patrols, well, Peter could understand why Ned thought he was being especially uptight lately. Spider-Man had been an outlet for Peter, something that allowed him to use his crazy enhancements to do some good for people, and as much as he enjoyed Academic Decathlon and building Legos and playing chess and his ballet lessons with Auntie Nat, they just weren't the same.

But unfortunately Dad and Papa didn't see it that way, and Peter just didn't have the heart to disobey them again, as much as he was tempted to sometimes.

_Maybe once they're done with all the HYDRA raids things'll be better. Because once HYDRA's gone, then Papa will be able to relax more, which means that Dad'll be able to relax more, and then… maybe I can ask about being Spider-Man again._

With a sigh, Peter opened his algebra textbook and started copying down notes, barely looking at his paper since he already understood the principles being presented by the teacher. As much as he hated to admit it, he really, really missed his dads. Uncle James and Uncle Bucky were doing their best to keep Peter distracted but it still wasn't the same, and it didn't help at all that this series of raids seemed to have so much more riding on them than the ones in the past.

Or at least, Papa sure made it seem that way.

Because for how extensive HYDRA was, there was simply no way it could go on indefinitely, especially after the Avengers had managed to thwart Project Insight. And surely all of the political opposition would decide to back down once they were able to completely destroy the evil organisation.

Wouldn't it?

* * *

Steve frowned as he stepped off the Quinjet onto the semi-frozen steppe, the slight _crunch_ of the ground beneath his boots causing a mild shiver to race up his spine. He had to admit that the Gobi desert was a fairly decent hiding place for a HYDRA base since it was so sparsely populated, even if he wished it was anywhere other than yet another frozen tundra.

At least since it was a desert there weren't any bodies of water that he had to worry about, so hopefully little to no chance of being swallowed up by ice again. Ever since the incident at the lake Steve hadn't been able to bring himself to be immersed in water, something he knew hadn't escaped Tony and Peter's notice. Tony because he and Steve had taken to enjoying the occasional bath together over the summer at the Compound before that fateful afternoon, and Peter, well, mainly because he was so observant and perceptive that one could almost say he was empathic.

But now all the progress that he and Tony had made with conquering their water demons was gone, and he was back to square one. And while Tony would tell him that being frozen in ice for the second time in his life would be enough to cause any man to be afraid of the water, Steve still couldn't bring himself to accept it.

He was Captain America, damnit. He wasn't supposed to be afraid of something as innocuous as water.

And yet… he still was.

A rustling noise behind him caused him to startle, and he turned to see Tony stepping off the jet, already wearing his armour and with a determined look on his face.

"Babe?" he said, jerking his head towards the tablet in Steve's gloved hand. "What're we looking at here?"

"Redwing's just about done with his sweep," Steve answered, watching as various blinking green dots appeared across the screen, each indicating a perimeter guard for the base. Despite the massive size of the structure and surrounding outposts, which were easily twice the size of the bases they had just cleared out in Iceland, there weren't all that many guards.

Hmm," muttered Tony as he studied the tablet. "Seems pretty sparse for such a big base. You thinking it's been abandoned?"

"Yeah, that's exactly what I'm thinking," Steve said with a heavy sigh. It had been a toss-up whether to start in Mongolia or hit the bases in Iceland first, and he had ended up deciding to go with Iceland first mainly because the bases there were easier to supply and therefore more important than the completely landlocked Mongolian base.

"We should've started here," he added. "This place is so big, I should've realised—"

"No, no, no, don't need any of that," Tony cut in, nudging Steve gently with his armoured elbow. "Second-guessing never gets us anywhere, right, Captain?"

Steve pursed his lips, huffing as he glanced over at his husband. "Well, yeah, but—"

"Nope, no buts," Tony repeated, shaking his head as Redwing swooped down from the sky and disappeared inside the Quinjet. "So, what's the plan?"

"Well, since there appears to be minimal opposition, I think hitting 'em from two sides should be enough," Steve said after a short pause. He pointed to the northwest and southeast corners, both housing occupied guard towers. "You and Sam will hit these towers simultaneously, take out the guards and then move counterclockwise to the next tower until they're all clear while Natasha, Clint, and I stake out the main entrance. Clint will pick off any visible guards, and then we'll move in with you and Sam watching our six. I think Bruce'll be okay to sit this one out. We can always call him in if things get dicey, but from the looks of it, it likely won't."

"All right, sounds easy enough," Tony said. He pointed to a small structure on the tablet, about twenty-five metres or so away from the entrance and slightly off to the side. "Looks like this used to be another guard tower?"

"That's what I'm thinking," Steve agreed. "This place used to be a prison decades ago based on the intel from Clint and Natasha, so it would make sense for there to be a guard tower stationed close to the entrance."

"Well, good," said Tony. "The perfect place for you guys to hide while Sam and I pick off the stragglers."

Steve's belly gave a nervous swoop. "Yes. As long as you're careful."

"I always am, babe, and you know it," Tony said, his eyebrows knitting together into a frown. "And you also know that there's a very fine line between being cautious and being useless, and I absolutely refuse to be useless. That's not how we work."

"You know that's not what I meant," Steve replied. He dropped his chin to his chest, breathing in a slow, deep breath, the frigid air searing through his throat and down into his lungs. He and Tony had already bickered at least three times over what Tony had called his excessive hovering, and he was in no mood to go through it again. "I just want—"

He was shushed by Tony's armoured fingers brushing across his lips, his beautiful face etched in concern mixed with frustration. "I know what you want, babe, but I've already told you a million times that it ain't gonna happen. There's no way in hell I'm letting you do these raids without me, so you're just gonna have to let that idea go. We're in this thing together, right?"

Hot tears of shame pricked Steve's eyes, and he turned away, hoping that Tony wouldn't notice. It was bad enough that he had tried to convince Tony to stay behind in New York with Peter, using the lame excuse that Peter always hated the both of them being gone at the same time, but to keep harping on him the way that he'd been, well, no wonder Tony was getting frustrated.

And it wasn't that Steve didn't trust Tony. On the contrary, he trusted Tony implicitly, just as he knew Tony trusted him, and the two of them always worked very well in the field together. They worked instinctively, and could anticipate the other's movements so easily it was as if they'd been fighting together all their lives. It had been like that ever since the Battle of New York.

Steve just desperately wished that he could erase the image of Tony's out-of-control suit crashing into the stone wall of that Miami bunker from his mind. It was that image, accompanied by the horrible sound of metal slamming against stone at forty kilometres an hour that constantly haunted Steve's dreams and had terrified him during their recent missions.

He was compromised, and a compromised Captain was never good. Especially when they were dealing with HYDRA.

"Steve?" Tony said, gently tilting Steve's face back to look at him. "We good here?"

"Yeah," answered Steve, sniffing. "We are, mo grá. I'm sorry, I'm just—"

Again he was silenced, this time with Tony's lips against his. "Don't be sorry, honey," Tony whispered. "Let's just get this done so we can go home, yeah? I mean, not that you don't look damn good in that uniform, if I do say so myself, but I can say that I've just about had enough of HYDRA's lack of hospitality, and I know Pete misses us."

Steve smiled slightly as he nodded, slipping his hand around Tony's waist and pressing their foreheads together. "Home. That sounds great."

The sound of a clearing throat broke them apart, and Steve looked up to see Clint, smirking in the doorway of the jet as he fiddled with one of his arrowheads.

"You guys just can't keep your hands off each other, can you," he said, that evil/ mischievous gleam in his eyes that Steve knew drove Tony bonkers. "It's like watching one of those stupid-ass rom-coms on a continuous loop. I mean, aren't you getting tired of each other yet?"

Tony rolled his eyes, then grabbed Steve's face in his hands, planting a very loud, very sloppy, and very exaggerated kiss right on his lips that almost caused him to drop the tablet.

"There," Tony said to Clint, rather triumphantly as Steve stumbled backwards. "Does that answer your idiotic question?"

"Yeah, yeah, sure," muttered Clint. "Just so long as you keep all your clothes on, yeah?" He pointed his completed arrow towards Steve's tablet. "We good to go?"

Steve nodded as he wiped the spit from his mouth and pulled on his cowl, positive that his face was as red as Tony's armour. "Yep. Ready whenever you guys are."

"Well, then let's roll," Clint said. He strapped on his sheath of arrows, poking his head back inside the jet. "Guys? Cap says we're ready!"

"'Bout time," Sam said as he came up on Steve's left side, with Natasha and Bruce crowding in between Tony and Clint. "Let's get this done."

"All right," Steve began, looking around the circle of heroes that he called his family. "Based on Redwing's surveillance sweep and the low number of guards, it appears that this base has been abandoned, maybe recently. I'm hoping that means there won't be too much resistance, but we should still be on our guard. This is definitely a HYDRA base, and we can't put anything past 'em, so we all need to be alert and ready for anything."

A chorus of affirmative murmurs floated up from the team as Sam spoke up, "So, pretty much just another day at the office then, right Cap?"

"Pretty much," Steve agreed. "Sam, you and Tony will start at these two towers and work counterclockwise while Nat, Clint, and I take position here, by the entrance. As soon as the towers are clear, Clint'll take out any remaining guards by the entrance and we'll all head inside. Bruce will stay here with the jet on standby, either for a code green or to assist with evac if there's a problem. Any questions?"

"Seems easy enough," said Natasha.

"Yep," agreed Clint. "Let's do it."

Steve gave a nod, setting down the tablet and locking eyes with Tony, who shot him that little half-smirk that he reserved only for Steve. "Then let's go. Tony, Sam, whenever you're ready."

"I'm ready now, Birdman," Tony said as his helmet locked into place, his repulsors powering up. "Race ya."

"Now, now, now, I thought we'd decided we weren't gonna do that anymore!" protested Sam as Tony took off, his wings flying open a second later. "I'm pretty sure you have an unfair advantage there, Iron Man!"

"Yeah, yeah, don't go crying too hard on me now, Falcon, I'll wait for ya," Tony said. "Geez, you'd think you'd be happy with your new pack upgrade, but no, you always gotta be giving me the grabby hands. There's only one of me, you know."

"All right, let's cut the chatter out there, guys," Steve said, even as he couldn't help but smile at the playful banter. It was just one of the innumerable things that he loved about Tony.

A few seconds later Tony's repulsors sounded again, this time aimed at the southeast guard tower, accompanied a couple seconds later by the sound of a body hitting the ground.

The next couple of towers were taken in much the same manner, and after the fourth hit, Steve grabbed onto his shield, nodding at Natasha and Clint.

"Only two left, babe," Tony said over the comm. "You guys should be good to go."

"Copy that," Steve said. "Once you're done head straight towards the main entrance and keep your eyes peeled. We're on our way now."

"Gotcha."

"Man, this isn't really even a fight," Clint said as they took off running towards their tower. "After all those tiny bases in Iceland I was hoping this one would be more of a challenge, but—"

He was cut off by the sudden sound of a weapon powering up, one that Steve instantly recognised as a HYDRA weapon.

"Clint, watch it!" Steve shouted, raising his shield just in time to block the shot that came from somewhere off to their left.

"Shit, that was close!" Clint said as they reached the remains of the guard tower, ducking down behind it just in time to avoid another shot. "Where the hell are they firing from, there aren't any goddamn trees out here!"

"I don't know," Steve said, scanning the area as Clint notched an arrow. "Tony, Sam, can you guys see who's firing at us?"

"I gotcha, babe," Tony replied a second later, followed by the unmistakable sound of his repulsors. "Asshole thought he could hide behind a rock, now that's not very dignified, is it?"

"Not like there's any other places to hide out here," said Sam. "Redwing's sweeping for more stragglers now, Cap."

"Yeah, and I got one in the crosshairs," Clint said. He drew back his bow, aiming it towards a shadow to the right of the main entrance and firing. "Bullseye."

"Nice shot, Hawkeye," Sam said from somewhere above, in between a series of gunshots. "Dude never even saw it coming."

"Should be good now, honey," Tony added. "JARVIS isn't picking up any heat signatures 'cept ours now."

"Good work, guys, we're heading in," Steve answered. "Sam, have Redwing continue circling above while we're inside the structure."

"Copy that, Cap."

Breaking the thick lock on the heavy metal doors took only one hard swing of the shield, and then they were inside, walking down a set of stone steps into what appeared to be a research lab, not too unlike other HYDRA labs they'd encountered. Long counters were lined with computer stations and scattered bits of paper, some still with blinking cursors, and towards the back of the square-shaped room were two sets of double doors, one on each side.

"Clint, Nat," Steve said, nodding towards the computer stations. "See what you can find."

"Got it," replied Natasha, approaching one of the computer terminals as Steve headed for the first set of doors, again breaking the lock easily with his shield.

"Steve?" Tony said as he skidded to a landing right behind Steve, his right repulsor at the ready. Gripping his shield, Steve pulled open the door to reveal another laboratory, complete with several machines that Steve remembered seeing in Dr Cho's offices as well as Tony's lab, as well as a couple of chemistry setups similar to what Peter used at home.

"Looks like they were doing some kind of research here," Tony said as his helmet retracted, his brown eyes scanning the various machines. "All this stuff's written in Russian, babe."

"Russian? Why Russian?" Mongolia had its own language with various dialects, so it didn't make sense for everything to be in Russian, unless…

Tony shrugged. "It's what a lot of people speak here. We're not too far from Siberia, you know."

"Yeah, that's true," muttered Steve, suppressing a shiver. He didn't like being reminded of Siberia, and especially of what he had found there. "Do you think this place could be a counterpart to the Siberian base? It's about the same size and design."

Tony shrugged, sweeping his hand along the row of machines. "Could be. This stuff's all used for processing blood samples and things like that, so—"

"Cap, Tony," Sam suddenly broke in over the comm, sounding grim. "Nat's been able to break a few levels of encryption out here, and… we've found something that you guys should probably see."

Steve and Tony both looked at each other with wide eyes, and the sense of dread that Steve had been trying to stamp down all morning welled back up, sitting like a lead ball in the pit of his stomach.

_We should've started here, why didn't we start here? I practically helped them escape by not starting here!_

Silently, he and Tony headed across the main lab to the opposite side, where Sam, Clint, and Natasha were standing by the double doors.

"What did you find?"

Natasha's concerned grey eyes flicked between Steve and Tony as she swallowed hard. "It's probably best that we show you."

"Well, that can't be good," Tony muttered. Steve huffed, grabbing Tony's hand and squeezing hard as they stepped inside the room, which was filled with three rows of what looked like the same kind of odd sleeping capsules that he had seen in one of Peter's Star Trek movies. Steve watched as Tony's jaw tightened and his eyes narrowed, and the lead ball in Steve's stomach grew even larger.

"Tony?" he whispered. "What—what's all this?"

"I don't—" Tony broke off, glaring towards Natasha who was standing next to one of the computer stations, the screen covered in the Cyrillic letters of the Russian alphabet. "What'd you find?"

Natasha gulped as she pointed to the screen. "These are names, guys," she said, the usual light rasp in her voice even more pronounced. "Now, they might just be there to throw us off, but—"

"What names are on that list, Natasha?" Steve cut in. "Is one of them mine?"

"Yes," she replied. "But you're not the only one. There's also Bruce, Bucky, and—"

"Holy _shit!" _Tony suddenly cut in from next to one of the capsules, causing Steve to whip around. He'd been so stunned by everything else that he hadn't even realised Tony had left his side. "Steve, these are—I think these are stasis pods!"

"_What?"_ Steve exclaimed. "For who?"

Tony slowly shook his head, his face a pale greyish colour. "I don't know yet, babe, but I have to say I have a few ideas, and they're all scaring the shit outta me."

Steve's belly gave a violent swoop, his hand tightening on the shield. "Okay. Can you give me your best guess?"

"I'd rather not until we can poke around a bit more," answered Tony. "But we should get Bruce in here ASAP, I'm gonna need his help."

Steve's head was spinning, his stomach so clenched he felt like he might be sick as he forced himself to look at the computer screen again, wishing he could read Russian and at the same time grateful that he couldn't.

He also knew that Tony was refusing to speculate out loud because he was afraid of how Steve would react.

_But what the hell would the stasis pods be used for, if not to house something? Or someone?_

The Siberian bunker had also had stasis pods, which had housed the other Winter Soldiers.

"Bruce?" he said, low and even. "Did you catch all of that?"

"Sure did, Cap," came Bruce's reply over the comm. "I'm on my way."

"Copy that." Steve then stepped closer to Natasha, staring at the monitor in front of her. "Nat, you said my name is on that list, correct?"

"Yes," she replied. "Along with Bruce, Bucky… and—"

"Oh, God!" Steve blurted out before she could finish. It was _exactly_ like Siberia all over again. "Please, tell me it's not—!"

"She can't babe, 'cause it's right here," said Tony. He pointed to one of the lines on the screen with a shaking hand, with Steve's blood turning to ice as he saw it.

"Петр Старк-Роджерс."

* * *

**_I can't wait to see what you think! Please don't hesitate to leave me a review! :)_**


	4. Chapter 4

_**This chapter contains brief mentions of 1940's period-typical homophobia.**_

* * *

Tony paced back and forth, his metal feet clanking along the concrete floor of the bunker as he impatiently waited for Bruce and Natasha to complete their initial assessment of the computer files. JARVIS had already begun decrypting the rest of the list of names they had managed to find, the list that contained not only Steve, Bruce, and Bucky's names, but Peter's as well.

"Pardon me, sir," JARVIS said carefully, as if he could sense Tony's skyrocketing anxiety level. He had already been kicked off the computers by Bruce once they realised that having two people attempting to examine the data was causing it to degrade that much faster, likely one of many safeguards built into the encryption system. Unfortunately it meant that he didn't really have anything to do at the moment, and, like Steve, it was only making him even more anxious.

The fact that he could barely stand to even look at Steve at the moment wasn't helping anything, but the sight of the immense pain and self-loathing in his husband's blue eyes was just almost too much for Tony to handle. Absolutely none of this was Steve's fault, but Tony knew that there was no way that Steve would see it that way because if their roles were reversed, neither would he.

"Yeah, what do ya got for me, J?"

"Sir, I am afraid this data is being protected by several layers of high-level encryption that have yet to be identified."

"Yet to be identified?" Tony asked. "That's quite a stretch, coming from you."

"I agree, sir," said JARVIS. "There are some similarities to the encryption keys used for the Project Insight algorithm, but if I do say so, this is even more advanced. As such, I am unable to transfer any of it to the Tower's servers without a significant risk to the security systems."

"No, no, let's not do that," Tony said quickly. "How long do you think it'll take?"

"I am unsure, sir. At best guess I would say the earliest would be in approximately twenty-four hours, perhaps more. I am of course working as fast as I can, but I don't believe I have to remind you that this has to be done very carefully if there is to be any data left that's worth examining."

Tony huffed out a sharp breath as he snuck a glance over at Steve, who was pacing back and forth about five metres away, his gloved hands gripping his belt and his jaw so tight it could looked like it could cut through vibranium.

"Is Steve gonna be able to handle waiting that long?" Tony asked.

"Captain Rogers' heart rate and blood pressure are both quite elevated, sir," answered JARVIS. "As are yours."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Tony muttered. "Just… work as fast as you can, but no cutting corners, yeah? We can't risk anything getting into the Tower's systems that's not supposed to be there."

_Not again._

"I quite agree, sir."

With another furtive glance at Steve, Tony stepped over to the computer station where Bruce and Natasha were working, listening as Natasha translated the Russian text.

"How's it going, big guy?" he asked.

"Slow," answered Bruce, not even looking up as his fingers flew across the keyboard. "Whoever encrypted this stuff definitely knew what they were doing."

"Yeah, it was probably either left over from Zola or someone who was working with him," replied Tony. "And we never really did break into Zola's algorithm for Project Insight, we only got the info on the Winter Soldier through a tiny back door, so…"

Bruce let out a frustrated groan as his screen suddenly flickered, erasing all the text on it. "No offence Tony, but can you leave me alone with this for a bit? I need to concentrate."

Immediately Tony stepped back, raising his hands. "Yeah, yeah, sure thing. Just let me know when you need a break."

"Will do."

Natasha looked up then, catching Tony's eyes and jerking her head towards Steve in silent question. Tony frowned and shook his head, pursing his lips when Natasha's shoulders dropped.

_No, he's not at all okay, and I have no goddamn clue when he might be._

With a heavy sigh, Tony headed over to Steve, catching him midway through his pacing route.

"How's it going over there?" he asked in his Captain's voice. "Anything new?"

"Not yet," Tony said carefully. "Bruce is working on it, but it's gonna take awhile. JARVIS says the encryption on this stuff is at or above Project Insight levels, so we can't rush it if we want to be able to transfer everything that's there."

Steve gave a nod, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed. "Yeah, I wanna make sure we find out as much as possible. How long's it gonna take?"

"JARVIS says at least a day, but based on how big this place is and what they might've been doing here, I'm gonna venture that it might take even longer than that."

"All right. And do you have any new theories as to what they might've been doing here?" Steve asked.

Tony hesitated, unsure as to just how much he should divulge at the moment. As a matter of fact, he did have several theories as to what HYDRA might have been working on, with each one being even scarier than the last.

"A few," he said carefully. "But I'd rather not latch onto one or more of them until we're able to decrypt more of that data."

A flash of agonising pain flitted across Steve's face, his hands tightening around his belt. "All right," he said softly. "But can I do anything to help? I'm—I'm feeling pretty useless here, and—"

"Not right now, Steve," Tony whispered. He grasped onto Steve's left hand, unlatching it from his belt and flexing his fingers. "Bruce just kicked me outta there and Clint, Sam, and that bird thingy of his are off exploring the lower levels, so… right now there's nothing much else that we can do."

Steve glanced down at their joined hands, his gloved fingers tightening around Tony's armoured palm. "I'm sorry, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice shaking. "But I can't—"

"Nope, we're not starting that up again," Tony warned him. "Damnit, Steve, when the hell are you gonna believe me that none of this is your fault? I mean, for all we know what was going on here was going on at the same time as our house was being bombed, and at the same time as Project Insight! And you can't forget that HYDRA had their grimy hands on Loki's sceptre from the end of the Chitauri invasion until that battle down in Miami, and we still don't know exactly what that thing does, so there's really no telling what they could've been doing here."

"But they had my blood samples, Tony!" Steve shrieked, loud enough to briefly draw Bruce and Natasha's attention. "The notes that we found in the Siberian bunker said that HYDRA had my blood samples, and we know the other Winter Soldiers were made and trained at that base. And this base is set up just like that one, and now we've found this list that has Peter's name on it, so—"

"Steve, I _know_ that. But as much as it sucks, we've known for awhile now that HYDRA's known about Pete since way back in Afghanistan."

"Yes, and because of that, HYDRA took him and tried to convert him into one of their Winter Soldiers!"

Tony scoffed, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. "I know that too, Steve. I was there."

"Then you of all people should know what this tells us," Steve huffed. He tried to yank his hand away but Tony held on tight, grateful for the added strength from his armour.

"Oh? And what's that, Mr Man-with-a-plan?"

Steve's piercing blue eyes flashed with anger, glaring down at Tony. "It tells us that Peter isn't safe, and that it's all my fault."

Tony shook his head, forcing himself to not rise to the bait. He and Steve had had way too many arguments like this in the weeks since the attack at the lake. "No, I'll tell you what it tells us," he said through clenched teeth. "It tells us that HYDRA had your blood samples because you told me yourself that the SSR scientists practically bled you dry after your serum procedure, so there was probably enough of it to go around to every goddamn research lab in the world at the time. Now, I have little doubt in my mind that whatever they used to make the original Winter Soldier and the stuff that he ended up stealing from Howard was based on the serum in your blood, but you're acting like you personally did it yourself! You had absolutely no control over what those scientists did, and therefore have absolutely no reason to blame yourself! All you did was volunteer for a dangerous experiment because you wanted to help the U.S. win a goddamn war!"

"Yes, I goddamn _did!"_ yelled Steve. But his words had no bite to them, his voice cracking on the final word, and he managed to maintain his composure for about three more seconds before his face completely crumpled and he pitched forward. Tony managed to catch him just before he hit the floor, guiding him over to the far wall where he sat them down, removing the shield and Steve's cowl.

"Tony, I can't—I shouldn't let the team see me like this, I—"

But Tony pressed his fingers to Steve's lips, cutting off his self-deprecating rant. "Damnit, honey, when are you gonna realise that this team knows you better than you think? They all know what you're feeling, and even more so when you try so hard to hide it. And you know you can't hide anything from me, don't you?"

"Yeah, I know, but—"

"No. No more goddamn buts. You know I'm right about this."

Steve's body was stiff against Tony, refusing to relax or even bend at all until Tony retracted his arm gauntlets, trailing his fingers through Steve's sweat-dampened hair.

"Steve, please, you're just beating yourself up over and over for things that were completely out of your control," he said gently, scraping his fingernails lightly against his husband's scalp. "There's nothing that you could've done differently that would've changed anything."

"But, Tony… Peter's name is on that list. Our son's name is on that list, which means that the people here knew about him and what he can do. And now we don't know where they've gone or who else they've told."

Tony sighed, shifting Steve so his back was against Tony's chest with Tony's arm across him. "I know that, honey. And Pete's name was also in those research materials that you guys found in Siberia, so—"

"Exactly!" said Steve. "And those materials were all about the Aminacin drug that HYDRA gave him, and—"

"They gave it to you too," Tony interrupted. "And me."

"I _know_ they gave it to you, Tony!" Steve snapped. "I know it because that drug almost managed to _kill _you, and there wasn't a single damn thing that I could do about it except hold your hand and beg you to stay with me!"

"Okay, okay, bad example," muttered Tony. He pressed his lips to Steve's forehead, the heat radiating from his sweaty skin almost scorching. "Look. Killian and Stane came after us because they both had a personal vendetta against me—"

"Against _us_," said Steve. "They had a vendetta against all three of us."

"Right, but still. They may have had some of HYDRA's resources at their disposal, but for them it was personal. This," and he swept his hand around the lab, "isn't. This is just another HYDRA research lab, albeit one that's very large and very high-tech and apparently that came with a list of enhanced individuals."

"But _Peter's_ name is on that list, Tony," Steve insisted. "So I don't care if it's personal or not to them, it is to _me_."

"To _us,_" said Tony.

Steve tipped his head back against Tony's shoulder, his eyes fluttering closed. "Yes. To us. So what are we gonna do about it?"

"Well, for right now we're just gonna sit here until Bruce needs me to take over," Tony said quietly. "And then once we're able to leave here we're gonna go home, give Pete a few of those bear hugs that he loves so much, and then we're gonna get started on the next part of your plan to eliminate HYDRA. And then maybe once that's done, we can both breathe a little easier. Okay?"

"Breathe," Steve murmured into Tony's neck, his voice breaking and taking Tony's heart right with it. "Tony, I can't remember the last time I was able to take a real, deep breath. It's like my chest is constantly being squeezed, and all I can do is gasp. And then ever since the lake, oh God, I just feel like I'm _choking!_ All the time! Choking on water that's not even _there,_ and I'm just so scared that I'm gonna drown again!" His long fingers curled around Tony's forearm, pressing it into his chest. "I'm so _scared_, Tony. So scared to lose what I've found, and then when I almost did—I couldn't take it, sweetheart, I couldn't! I'm not—I'm just not strong enough!"

And finally, there it was, the confession Tony had been begging and pleading for ever since Peter had woken up from his coma down in that Miami hospital. Tony knew that Steve had been struggling hard ever since then, but he had always outright refused to admit just how badly.

Which was yet another thing that he and Steve had in common. Tony knew all about trying to bury traumatic memories to avoid dealing with them, or finding less-than-helpful ways of dealing with them when they refused to stay buried. Drinking, gambling, and throwing himself into his work, Tony had tried them all in his attempts to process the various traumas associated with his father, both when he was still alive and with his abrupt death.

And not a single one of them had accomplished a damn thing. It wasn't until Peter was born that Tony finally managed to get his act together.

Tony buried his nose into Steve's hair, gripping him so tightly he was shocked that he hadn't yet torn his uniform. "Steve, you can't keep trying to lock all this stuff down and forget about it, okay? Believe me, that's exactly what I tried to do before Pete came along, and it almost killed me."

"Yeah, you told me," Steve said. "You told me he saved you."

"That's 'cause he did, honey. Just like you saved both of us when you found us in that desert. Pete would've been dead if you hadn't shown up when you did."

Steve let out a hard shudder, burrowing further into Tony's arms. "I can't imagine it."

"Neither can I," Tony said, suppressing his own shudder. "I was so scared and out of it that I thought I was hallucinating when you came sliding down that sand dune."

They were quiet for several heartbeats, until Steve spoke up again. "That's how it was for me after the battle, mo grá," he whispered. "And it still hasn't stopped."

"Yeah, I might've noticed. Kinda hard not to when you're tearing the sheets to shreds every other night."

"Oh God, Tony, I can't—"

"No, no, I shouldn't've said that, honey," Tony murmured. "You know how I am."

Steve tilted his head, his blue eyes glassy as they bored into Tony's. "I've made you afraid of me."

"No, not afraid of you," Tony assured him. "Afraid _for_ you. It's not easy to see you like this, and I know it's been hard for Pete too. He loves you so much, honey, it's hard for him to see you struggling."

"He shouldn't have to see it," Steve said bitterly. "I should be able to—"

"_No!" _Tony snapped. He took Steve's face in his hands, preventing him from looking away. "Goddamnit, that's exactly what's keeping you from seeing the problem! You keep thinking you have to hide it, but you don't have to! This isn't the 1940's anymore, Steve, it's not unacceptable for a man to admit that he needs help!"

But Steve only shook his head, like the damn stubborn soldier that he was. "I shouldn't have to rely on my son to help me, Tony. I'm the parent, and he's the child. It doesn't work that way."

"Oh for Christ's sake, I'm not telling you to ask Pete for help. All I'm saying is that it's okay for you to admit to him what he already knows. He already knows that you have nightmares. He already knows that you spend hours down in the gym punching the hell outta your punching bags until your knuckles bleed and the floor's covered in sand. He already knows that you run so much that you're blowing through three pairs of shoes in a month, and he already knows that absolutely none of this is helping you to get better!" He paused, weighing his next words very carefully. "And what you're showing him by doing those things, is that it's okay to try and sideswipe your problems instead of facing them head-on. And Pete already gets enough of that from me, Steve, he doesn't need it from you too."

"Mmm. I think you don't give yourself enough credit," muttered Steve. "You and Peter are so alike, in so many ways. Most of what he knows he's learned from you."

"Oh, and now who's not giving himself enough credit?" Tony retorted. "What about that thirty page essay he's already written for that decathlon competition that's not until April, for Christ's sake? Most of the inspiration for that came from you! And he's got a lot more of your mannerisms and facial expressions than you think, honey. You just can't see it because you can't see yourself, but I can. Plus he's as sweet as they come, and we all know that there's no way in hell he gets that from me, so—"

"Not true," Steve cut in. A single tear rolled down his cheek, and he sniffed, swiping it roughly away. "That's not true and you know it. And you also know that I don't like it when you put yourself down like that."

"Well, if we're being petty now, then I don't like it when you refuse to admit what everyone already knows because you think it'll make you look weak."

Steve's eyebrows knitted together into what he probably hoped was a fierce glare, but his red-rimmed eyes and the tear track winding through the grime on his face lessened the effect, causing him to look almost pathetic.

"I'm the Captain, Tony," he said. "So that means I can't afford to do anything that'll shake the team's confidence, and especially not when we're so close to eliminating HYDRA. Once that's done and I know Peter is safe, then maybe I'll think about it, but I can't do it now. I can't do anything that might split my focus."

The words were barely out of Steve's mouth when Tony felt his blood pressure spike and a bolt of pain shoot down his left forearm. _Goddamn stubborn fool,_ he thought as he tipped his head back, thudding it against the stone wall. He drew in a deep, shaky breath, gripping Steve even tighter as if he hoped he might be able to squeeze some sense into him.

"All right, fine," he finally said, low and tight. "But just be aware that Pete's watching you, and he's gonna see you not handling things and he's gonna remember it, 'cause that kid never forgets anything. Well, 'cept where he keeps his glasses. And his backpacks, and his pencils, and—"

"His head, if it wasn't attached?" Steve said, attempting to smile.

"Yeah, that too. But seriously, Steve, you know how perceptive he is, so he probably already knows or can guess most of what's going on, even if we don't wanna admit it."

Steve's eyes fluttered briefly closed, his hands wrapped tightly around Tony's arm. "I know that, Tony."

_Great. So that just means you'll try even harder to hide things now. _

_So much for progress._

They were quiet for several minutes, so much so that Tony almost felt himself drifting off to sleep until Bruce suddenly let out a loud noise, somewhere between a whoop and a yelp. Steve instantly was on his feet, practically vibrating as he held out his hand to help Tony up.

"Bruce? What did you find?" Steve demanded.

"Sorry, guys, I might've gotten a little ahead of myself there," answered Bruce, shooting them both an apologetic glance. "Looks like all I've managed to uncover is a few more names."

Steve's shoulders visibly sagged. "Oh. Well, can you tell us who they are? Maybe JARVIS can get started on locating them."

"Yeah, sure, just give me a sec…" Bruce entered a few more commands, the _clacking_ of the keys on the rather cheap keyboard punching tiny holes in Tony's already fraying nerves.

"Okay, looks like there's a few here," Bruce began, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Donald Gill, Morris… um, Nat, what's that say?"

"Верстак," replied Natasha. "It means, 'Bench'."

"Okay, so Morris Bench, um…" he squinted at the screen, shaking his head. "Ah, maybe it'd be easier if Nat just read 'em."

Natasha smirked, leaning towards the monitor. "Um… Марк Ракстон, that's Mark Raxton, and Уильям Бейкер is William Baker. That along with Steven Rogers, James Barnes, Bruce Banner, and Peter Stark-Rogers are all that we've managed to uncover."

Steve visibly flinched at the sound of Peter's name, and Tony reached for his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "All right. And you still say it'll take another day before we can transfer this information to the Tower?"

"At minimum," answered Bruce. "And that'll just be to stabilise it enough so we don't lose anything in the transfer. The data itself will still be encrypted. This is some pretty high-tech stuff here, and I'm assuming we want as much as we can get our hands on."

"You're assuming right," Steve said firmly. "Keep on it. JARVIS?"

"Yes, Captain?"

"Can you please start compiling files on these individuals? Military histories, work histories, things like that? I wanna know how and why these names wound up in a HYDRA bunker. And if you can find their current whereabouts, that would be very useful too."

"I will begin immediately, Captain," JARVIS answered.

"I highly doubt you're gonna find them, Steve," Bruce said carefully. "If these guys are working with HYDRA then they're probably long gone by now. If these are even their real names."

Tony watched as Steve's already pale face paled even more. "Well, it's my real name on that list, and Bucky's, and even Peter's… it even says Peter Stark-Rogers instead of Peter Stark, so… there's no harm in trying."

"Yeah, that's actually a good point," Bruce said with a nod as he turned back to the monitor, the gibberish Russian text reflected in his glasses. Natasha shot Tony another questioning look, to which Tony replied with a shrug as he tugged Steve over to their spot against the wall and pulled out his phone.

"JARVIS, what's Pete up to?" he asked. "He still awake?"

"Master Peter has just fallen asleep, sir," JARVIS answered. "I am sorry."

"Nah, it's okay," Tony said quickly, trying to hide his disappointment. Getting to talk to Peter would've helped boost Steve's mood a bit, but he knew Steve would never wake him up just to talk on the phone.

"He's doing okay, though?"

"I would say so, sir," said JARVIS. "He and Sergeant Barnes spent the evening watching movies while Colonel Rhodes participated in several conference calls."

"Well, that's not too surprising," Steve muttered. "He got his homework done though, didn't he?"

"That is affirmative, Captain."

"And he's eating okay?"

"If you actually mean is he eating practically everything in sight, Captain, then the answer is yes. His appetite has been especially voracious in the past few days."

"Figures," Tony said. "He's probably going through another growth spurt."

"It would appear so, sir. Colonel Rhodes was even forced to call for an additional pizza delivery when the four he originally ordered were not sufficient for the three of them."

"Yeah, I bet he got a kick outta that," muttered Tony. "Thanks, J. Tell Pete that we miss him once he wakes up in the morning, yeah? And we'll hopefully see him soon? Tell him Papa will make him some hot chocolate when we get home, he'll love that."

"Very good, sir."

"But nothing about what we've found here, okay JARVIS?" Steve said. "If he asks, just—"

"I believe Master Peter has come to the realisation that it is no longer worth asking detailed questions regarding your missions, Captain," JARVIS said. "Since such questions only serve to frustrate him when he is denied answers."

_Good,_ Tony thought. _Kid already has enough secrets he's trying to keep._

"Well, if he does happen to ask, we don't want him knowing what's going on here," Steve insisted. "Tony and I will tell him when the time is right."

"Very good, Captain."

"We will?" Tony asked, quirking an eyebrow. "And when do you suppose might that be?"

"Once this is all over," Steve said firmly. "And by 'all over', I mean once every last scrap and shred of HYDRA is gone. Completely _gone." _

_Yeah, and when the hell is that gonna be?_ Tony wondered. He didn't dare say it out loud, though. Steve's mood was already tenuous enough, and he didn't feel like getting into yet another argument.

And it wasn't like Tony didn't agree, either. HYDRA was evil incarnate, and there was no doubt in his mind that the world would be a far, far better place once it was wiped out.

But what had started out as an offshoot group of some especially messed-up Nazi scientists had sprouted over the decades into such a massive and overbearing organisation, with tentacles extending into nearly every single aspect of military and civilian government and intelligence communities that at the moment it seemed that rooting out every last one of its members would be impossible. Especially when they were so damn good at hiding their tracks.

Steve had told Tony several times that the complete elimination of HYDRA had been the original mission of Captain America during the war, and that he fully intended to see it through.

And Tony also knew that Steve was stubborn enough to actually do it. He just hoped that Steve didn't wind up eliminating himself in the process.

* * *

Peter gritted his teeth as he fumbled with the combination lock on his locker, trying to get his fried eyes to focus on the tiny little numbers so he could actually get the thing to open without breaking it. Normally when he was as tired and anxious as he was he would've already been wearing his glasses, but since he had managed to break one of the arms off of them earlier in the day they were no longer an option. Apparently this growth spurt he was in was affecting a bit more than just his appetite, as he hadn't been able to control his strength well at all since pretty much the beginning of the school year. In addition to the broken glasses, he had also torn the shoelaces on three pairs of shoes, ripped the zipper on both a backpack and his favourite hoodie, and nearly yanked the passenger side seatbelt in Uncle James' car clear out of its socket. Papa had suggested that he and Uncle Bucky try some arm-wrestling sessions the last time Peter had spoken to him and they had helped some, but he still felt like his enhancements were coming out all over again, and it was all very unnerving.

At least Ned wasn't standing behind him and chattering nonstop into his ear like he had been most of the day. He'd had to leave practise early for a dentist appointment, and as much as Peter liked Ned, at the moment he was very thankful for the peace and quiet.

"Twenty-seven, fourteen, thirty-six," Peter mumbled under his breath as the twirled the dial, letting out an exaggerated sigh of relief when the lock finally gave way. He gingerly opened the door, careful to not send it slamming against its neighbour, and shoved his books inside, grabbing his backpack and dropping it to the floor so he could put on his jacket.

"Hey, Peter!" a kind voice suddenly said, startling Peter such that he jumped backwards and knocked the back of his head against the swinging locker door.

"Ow!"

"Oh my God, are you okay?" Gwen exclaimed as she rushed closer, a pile of books in her arms and her pretty eyes wide with shock. Peter immediately nodded, leaning against the bank of lockers as he gingerly palmed the sore spot on his head, his heart thudding madly.

"Uhh, yeah," he stammered, an embarrassed blush already creeping up his cheeks and down his neck. _God, what a complete idiot!_ "Yeah, I'm fine. You just—you just startled me is all."

"Oh," Gwen said, her eyebrows knitting together in confusion. "Um, I startled you by saying hi?"

Peter's belly gave a hard swoop, his hands gripping his jacket as if it were a life raft. Of all the traits that he had inherited from his father, apparently being able to easily talk to girls wasn't one of them.

"Um… well… no, I guess—well, yeah. Actually, you did, but it's—it's okay though, I'm… ahh… I'm just a bit tired, and—"

"Yeah, I noticed you seemed kind of out of it at practise today," Gwen said, fiddling with the end of her blonde ponytail. "You were flipping your pen so fast that I could barely see it. Something going on?"

The tiny ripping noise of a popped stitch momentarily caught Peter's attention, and he looked down to see that he'd nearly poked his thumb right through the fabric on the back of his jacket. He quickly slid it on, taking extra care to draw the zipper up slowly as he struggled to come up with an appropriate response that didn't sound idiotic.

"No," he choked out. "Or I mean, nothing more than usual. My dads are just out of town on a mission, and I—"

"Ah," Gwen cut in, nodding as if she understood. "They've been gone for over a week now, haven't they?"

Peter's brow furrowed in surprise. "Uh, yeah? Um… how'd—how'd you know that?"

Gwen only shrugged, hugging her stack of books closer. "They haven't been picking you up from school. Ever since school started it's been one or both of them waiting for you in the afternoon, but for the last week it's been someone else."

"Yeah, that's my Uncle James, he's been staying with me," answered Peter. "Well, one of my Uncle Jameses. I actually have two of 'em."

"Oh, really?" Gwen said with a laugh—and she had such a pretty, melodic laugh, Peter had noticed that on their second day of school. "You seem to have two of a lot of things. Two fathers, two Uncle Jameses, two backpacks—"

"Oh, I usually wind up going through at least five backpacks by the end of the year," Peter said quickly, fighting the urge to cringe a split-second later. "I mean—I sometimes forget where they are, or I—"

"You know, people say that you can't technically be considered a genius if you're not at least a little absent-minded," Gwen said. She tilted her head, giving Peter a wide smile that sent a rush of warm fuzzies down his spine. "I read that in a book somewhere."

"Well, I'm definitely that," Peter said with an exaggerated nod. "Absent-minded, I mean."

_Smooth, Peter, real smooth. Good freaking grief!_

"I thought you were supposed to go to a safehouse or something when your dads were out on missions," said Gwen. "Isn't that what you usually do?"

Peter's head jerked back in surprise. "Huh? Who told you that?"

"No one in particular," Gwen said quickly. "I've just heard people talking about how you missed like a bunch of school last year because your dads had to send you to a safehouse somewhere while they were on a mission."

"Oh. Yeah, that," Peter muttered. _Yeah, the safehouse, aka the Miami hospital where I almost became a vegetable._

"Yeah, that was just… just a one-time thing. They were gone for a pretty long time on that one, so—"

Peter's phone buzzed in his pocket then, and he pulled it out to find a text from Uncle James, saying that he and Uncle Bucky were waiting for him in the parking lot.

"Um…" he said, clearing his throat. "My Uncle James is here, actually they both are, so… I need to get going."

"Yeah, my dad should be here soon too," said Gwen. "Do you mind if I walk out with you?"

"No!" Peter exclaimed, apparently with far too much enthusiasm when Gwen's eyes went wide and she took a step back. "I mean, no, of course I don't mind. That'd be—that'd be nice."

"Okay, great," said Gwen.

Peter swung his backpack onto his shoulder and stepped back, allowing Gwen to step in front of him. "After you."

"Oh, so you're both a genius and a gentleman?" Gwen asked as they started walking towards the exit, with Peter clinging to his backpack strap as if he thought it might suddenly hop away. "Which one of your dads taught you that?"

"Um… well, both—both of 'em," Peter said. He tugged on the collar of his hoodie, trying to get some air moving around his flaming neck. "They're both gentlemen, and they're both really smart too. I mean, Papa's probably not considered a genius like Dad, but he's still really, really smart. We even study him in our history class, so…"

"Oh yeah. Captain America: the greatest military strategist who ever lived," said Gwen. "Isn't that what the chapter in our book was called?"

"Yep," answered Peter. "Except it's not exactly accurate anymore since he's still living. That book was written before Papa was found in the ice."

"Yeah, well, since when are history books completely accurate?" Gwen said, her green eyes twinkling. "It must be nice to get all the answers to your questions right from the source instead of a book."

"It is," agreed Peter. He pushed open the double doors to find Uncle James' car parked nearby, with Uncle James and Uncle Bucky sitting inside.

"Well, I guess I'll see you tomorrow?" Peter asked just as Chief Stacy pulled into the parking lot in his unmarked police car.

Gwen gave him a rather awkward nod as she waved to her father. "Yep, I'll be here."

"Great. That's—that's really great," Peter stammered. "Um… see ya."

"Yep. See ya."

"Oh, wait!" Gwen shrieked as soon as Peter had turned his back. He twirled back around, nearly sending his backpack flying off his shoulder.

"Yeah?"

"Aahh, I need—I wanted to ask you something," she said, yanking so hard on her ponytail that Peter winced. "Um… my mom told me that I should invite you over for dinner sometime, she wants—she and my dad both wanna meet you, so… would you wanna come… sometime?"

"Really?" Peter squeaked. He cleared his throat, very aware that his face was likely the same colour as his father's armour. "I mean, yeah! That sounds awesome!"

Gwen smiled, hugging her books even tighter. "Great! Um… would tomorrow be okay? You could just come home with me after practise, and we could work on homework until dinner time, if that sounds okay."

"Uhh, I can't tomorrow," Peter said sadly. He ran his hand through his hair, likely sending his curls running in every which direction. "My dads, they don't let—they don't like me going anywhere when they're out of town, it makes 'em too jumpy, so… but as soon as they get back, I'd really like to come, that sounds—that sounds like fun. Yeah."

Nope. Peter very much did _not_ inherit his father's ability to smooth-talk. Not at _all._

"Oh. Okay," Gwen replied. "Do you know when they're supposed to be back?"

"Not for sure, but it should be within the next few days," said Peter. "Like you said, they've been gone for over a week now. I'll ask 'em as soon as they get home and then I can let you know, if that sounds okay?"

"Yeah, sure," Gwen said. She shifted her stack of books into one arm, holding out her hand. "Give me your phone."

Instinctively, Peter stepped back, his hand covering the front pocket where his phone sat. "Um… why?"

"So I can give you my contact info?" Gwen said with a giggle. "That way we can text?"

Peter shook his head, internally knocking himself on the forehand as he fished his phone from the pocket, pulling up his Contacts app. "Oh, sure. That makes perfect sense."

"Mmm, this is nice!" Gwen said as she tapped in her information, handing it back to Peter with a shy smile. "I bet you get to try out all the prototypes from your dad's company, huh?"

"Yeah, I do," replied Peter. He didn't bother to add that Dad had had this particular phone custom-made for him for his fifteenth birthday. "Dad gives them to me to field test before they're produced. I help him find bugs in the operating software, so—"

The piercing honk of a car's horn cut Peter off, and he jumped, turning towards the police car to see Chief Stacy impatiently waving his hand out the window.

"Gwen?" he called. "Let's get going, sweetheart!"

"Oops," she said. "Guess I should go. See you tomorrow?"

"Ah, yep," Peter said with a nod. "See ya." He watched as Gwen walked over to the police car, giving Chief Stacy an awkward wave as they drove away.

"Well, it's about time there, Casanova," Uncle James said as soon as Peter slid into the backseat. "Did you forget we were here or something?"

Peter rolled his eyes, slumping down into the seat. "Not likely."

"Yeah, well that's good," said Uncle James. He pulled the car onto the street, a smirk playing on his lips. "She's cute, by the way."

"Yeah she is," Peter said rapidly. "I mean… yeah, she is. She… um… invited me to her house for dinner tomorrow, but—"

"To her house?" Uncle Bucky cut in, looking confused. "To meet her parents?"

"Well… yeah," Peter said. He rubbed at his temples, wishing he had a spare pair of glasses. "She said her mom and dad wanted to meet me, so… why? Is that weird or something?"

"Nah, not weird exactly, it's just usually something you'd do when you're more serious," said Uncle Bucky. "I don't think I ever met a gal's parents because that meant you were ready to get engaged or something. I'd just meet 'em at the dance halls and have fun."

"Yeah, well, things are a bit different now than they were back in the forties," Uncle James said. "Besides, this is probably one of those dates that isn't really a date-date because if it turns out that they don't like each other as much as they thought they did, then they can just say it was a friends-date instead of a date-date and be done with it."

"Huh?" both Peter and Uncle Bucky said simultaneously.

"That sounds… really complicated," Peter added. "She just invited me to her house for dinner."

Uncle James gave a nod. "Exactly."

"'Cause she said her mom wanted to meet me."

"Right," said Uncle Bucky. "Which means it's serious."

"No!" Uncle James exclaimed. "It just means he's just going over to a girl's house for dinner! Jesus, man, it's not like he's gonna propose or something, the kid's only fifteen! Don't be spreading rumours around like that!"

"Hey, I know guys that got engaged when they were seventeen and then got married on their eighteenth birthday," said Uncle Bucky. "Or knew, I guess. They're probably all dead by now."

"Yeah, well, that was a long time ago, and during wartime, I might add," Uncle James said. "Wartime tends to… speed certain things along."

Peter pressed his palms to his cheeks, trying to cool himself down. He couldn't remember being this flushed since before his enhancements started. "Yeah, and now I'm sorry that I said anything."

"Too late, kid," Uncle James said with a smirk. "Now, what do you feel like having for dinner?"

They ended up driving through Uncle Bucky's favourite burger place, the one that had the milkshakes that were so thick you had to eat them with a spoon. Uncle James disappeared into his room for more conference calls as soon as they were done eating, and Peter and Uncle Bucky were just about to start a game of chess when JARVIS announced that Dad and Papa were on the line.

"Hey, little guy!" Papa said from the monitor in Peter's room, his over-enthusiastic greeting doing absolutely nothing to hide the intense fatigue and worry lining his face. They were sitting inside what looked like a huge stone building or bunker, not too unlike the one where he was taken by Obie and Killian.

"You doing okay, bud?" asked Dad. He looked exhausted too, with deep purple circles under his eyes. Peter highly doubted he and Papa had been getting much sleep lately.

"Yeah, I'm good," answered Peter. "Nothing much to report."

Dad shot Papa one of his not-so-subtle I-told-you-so looks. "Yeah, and that physics test you had yesterday? How'd that go?"

"Eh, I nailed it, it was easy," Peter said with a shrug. He grabbed onto his polar bear, hugging it to his chest. "When're you guys coming home?"

"Soon, buddy," Dad said quickly. "There's a ton of data here that we're transferring over to the Tower and it's been pretty slow-going, but as soon as JARVIS is done then we'll be heading right home."

"It should only be another day or two," Papa added. "We're all getting excited to come home, little guy. We miss you."

"Uh huh. Miss you guys too," replied Peter. "Have you found anything interesting?"

Peter watched as Dad and Papa exchanged one of their eyebrow-quirking looks. "Nothing much yet, bud," said Dad. "Like I said, there's a ton of data here but it's all locked up pretty tight, so we're gonna be working on it for awhile once we get back."

"Oh. Well, can I help?" Peter asked. "You know I'm pretty good with decrypting stuff."

"We'll see, buddy, okay?" Dad said with a sigh. "Papa's a bit concerned about what could be hiding in it, and you already have to keep so many secrets that we just don't wanna push it too much, yeah?"

"Mmm, fine," Peter grumbled. _I wouldn't have to keep so many secrets if you'd let me be an Avenger._

"We're hoping there'll be enough information here that we'll be able to finally take down HYDRA completely," Papa said. "And once that's done, then hopefully things will turn around for us."

"That'd be nice," Peter said softly. He buried his nose into the soft fur of his polar bear's neck, contemplating if he should ask about going to Gwen's house now or wait until his dads got home.

"Pete? Something on your mind?" Dad asked.

_Oops._

"Um… yeah," Peter said, clearing his throat. "Um, this afternoon Gwen asked if I wanted to come to her house for dinner sometime, she said her mom wanted to meet me. She actually asked if I could go tomorrow and I told her that I couldn't since you guys weren't home, but… would it be okay if I did?"

An awkward pause followed, punctuated by Dad and Papa turning to look at each other at the exact same time, both of them wearing the same wary expression. "Wow," Dad finally said. "I guess I didn't realise that you two were such good friends already."

"Yeah, we're—we're friends," Peter stammered. "She's in all my classes and on the Decathlon team, so… we've gotten to be pretty good friends, and…"

He trailed off as Dad and Papa looked at each other again, their eyebrows moving in their silent communication method that was equal parts amazing and infuriating to watch.

"We're just gonna work on homework and eat dinner," Peter said a few seconds later. "It's not that big of a deal."

"This girl told you her mom wanted to meet you?" Dad asked.

"Well, yeah. Why?"

"And what about her father, Peter?" asked Papa.

Peter frowned. "What about him? I'm assuming he'll be there too. Why, you think he's gonna try and interrogate me or something?"

"No, little guy," Papa said, a split-second too late. "Why would we—?"

"But that's exactly what you think!" Peter snapped, squashing his polar bear into a lumpy ball. "You both think she's just inviting me over so her dad can ask me a bunch of questions about you and the team, don't you! Because it just couldn't be because she thinks I'm cool and wants to hang out, no, it has to be all about you guys!"

In the back of Peter's mind he realised that he was probably being unreasonable, but he was so tired and frustrated that he didn't even care. His dads' paranoia had gotten so bad lately that it was seeping into nearly every aspect of their lives, and Peter was _sick_ of it.

"That is not at all what we think, young man, and you know it!" Dad retorted. "Papa and I are only trying to keep you safe, and—"

"And you don't think I'll be safe at the home of a deputy police chief?" Peter demanded. "You think only superheroes with armour and shields and fancy security drones can keep me safe? You know I'm even stronger than Papa, but you still think I'm just some weak little kid who needs to be protected all the time! I could be a superhero too, if you'd just let me!"

"That's a discussion for another time, Peter," Papa said in his Captain's voice—_damn that Captain's voice!_ "As for this dinner invitation, Dad and I are fine with it as long as you wait until after we get home. It should only be a couple more days, all right?"

Peter huffed out a sharp breath, loosening his ironclad grip on his poor polar bear before he managed to force it into another dimension. "That's what I told her, and she said it was fine."

"Good," said Dad, just as Peter heard Uncle Bruce call out Dad's name in the background. "We gotta get going, bud, okay? We'll call again once we're on our way home."

"Uh huh. Be safe."

"We will, Peter," said Papa. "And we love you."

"Uh huh. Love you too."

As soon as the monitor went blank Peter flopped backwards, so hard that he nearly bounced off the side of his bed. He felt bad for snapping at his dads since he knew that they called him because they missed him and didn't really need the added stress of thinking that Peter was mad at them, but _still._ Peter maybe wasn't an official superhero, but he was strong and fast and… well… sticky enough to be able to defend himself if necessary, and especially against someone who wasn't enhanced. And as far as anyone knew, George Stacy was just a regular guy who happened to be a police chief. There was no way he'd be able to beat Peter in a fight.

Not to mention the fact that he'd have to be a complete idiot to try and hurt Peter, knowing that he would immediately bring down the full wrath of the entire Avengers' team upon him.

The only people who would be that stupid would be bad guys, and Peter highly doubted that Gwen's father was a bad guy.

Placing his misshapen polar bear carefully on his pillow, Peter hefted himself off the bed and headed back out to the living room to find Uncle Bucky waiting patiently, the chessboard set up on the coffee table and two bottles of Dr Pepper sitting beside it.

"Everything okay?" Uncle Bucky asked as Peter sat down on the white side of the board.

Peter grasped one of his center pawns, moving it forward two spaces. "Yeah, why?"

Uncle Bucky shrugged as he moved his far-side right pawn. "You were talkin' a bit loud, and you sounded upset."

"Mmm," Peter grumbled as he moved another pawn. "I keep forgetting that you can hear like me and Papa."

"And you never close your bedroom door," said Uncle Bucky, rather slyly. "What, your dads don't want you seein' that girl or somethin'?"

"Nah, they're just being paranoid, as usual," Peter said. He frowned as he studied the board, finally moving his left-side bishop. "They tend to get worse when they're away."

"That's not all that surprising though, when you think about it," said Uncle Bucky. "They've been gone for over a week and haven't even gotten to talk to you everyday. It's bound to make 'em a bit jittery."

"A bit," Peter muttered. "I think I could take it if it was only a bit, but they're like on completely different levels of paranoia. It's like they still think I'm just a little kid, but it's even worse than that because they've both seen me in training, so they know what I can do! I even managed to web Papa to the ceiling up at the Compound last summer!"

Uncle Bucky nearly spat out his mouthful of Dr Pepper all over the chessboard. "You did?" he asked, laughing and sputtering. "And how'd Стиви feel about that?"

Peter grinned as he took one of Uncle Bucky's pawns with his bishop. "He thought it was pretty funny, actually. And I'm pretty sure Uncle Clint hasn't let him hear the end of it yet."

"I don't doubt it," said Uncle Bucky. He pursed his lips, his eyes intently studying the board. "I wouldn't worry about your dads too much though, Петр. They know damn well what you can do, they just don't wanna admit it 'cause they think that'll mean you won't need 'em as much anymore."

"Oh." Peter had to admit that he hadn't thought of it quite like that, and it did make a lot of sense. "You think so?"

"Yeah, I do," Uncle Bucky said. He moved one of his knights, taking Peter's bishop with a triumphant smile. "And especially Стив. Тони has been with you since you were born but Стив hasn't, so it's maybe a bit harder for him. He never knew his own papa, and then his ma died when he was eighteen, and… he never thought he'd be able to have a family, so…"

Uncle Bucky's voice trailed off then, and he looked down at his metal hand, flexing his fingers. "Before the serum he thought that his asthma would kill him by the time he was thirty, which probably wasn't too far off. It's one reason why he was so damn insistent about enlistin'; he figured if he was gonna die young that he may as well die doing somethin' that he thought was worthy." He paused again, shooting Peter an odd look. "And then afterwards… well… Back then, the time when we came from, it—it wasn't allowed, without a wife, or—he would've been—"

"I know what you're talking about," Peter cut in. "Papa told me he could've been arrested and court-martialed if his superiors had found out."

"That's true."

Peter shook his head in disgust. "I can't imagine being that… cruel."

"Why do you think I followed him around so much?" said Uncle Bucky. "He'd pick fights with guys all the time, and I was always afraid that somehow one of 'em would figure it out and really try to kill him."

"So… you knew, then?" asked Peter. "You knew Papa… didn't like girls?"

Uncle Bucky bit his lip, as if he was divulging a deep secret. "Yeah, I did, or at least I suspected. Never said nothin' to him, though, I didn't wanna embarrass him."

"Mmm," grumbled Peter. "It's nothing to be embarrassed about. My dad likes—or at least, liked—both girls and guys, and he's not embarrassed about it."

"Yeah, well, like the Colonel likes to say, things are a lot different now," Uncle Bucky said. "Including getting invited to your girlfriend's house to meet her parents when you're still gettin' to know each other."

"She's not my girlfriend," Peter said quickly, wincing when Uncle Bucky took another one of his pawns. "She's just a friend."

Uncle Bucky shot him a rather cheeky grin. "Yeah, sure. Usually guys don't turn as red as a tomato when they're talking about just friends, kiddo."

As if on cue, Peter felt his cheeks heating up. "I wasn't as red as a tomato—"

"We're too."

"Okay, maybe a little."

"Nope. You were full-on, Петр, the Colonel and I both saw it."

"Mmm," muttered Peter. "Well… she is really smart, and nice, and she's definitely pretty, and—"

"You've never had a crush before, have you," said Uncle Bucky.

Peter sheepishly shook his head. "Not really. This is pretty much the first time I've even talked with a girl where they weren't looking at me like I smelled funny."

Uncle Bucky's eyes went wide as he took another sip of Dr Pepper. "What, a good-lookin' boy like you? Nah, I can't believe that."

Shrugging, Peter moved his knight, splitting two of Uncle Bucky's pawns. "It's okay. Girls are… complicated. Way too hard for me to figure out."

"'Cept this Gwen gal?"

Peter's lips stretched into a smile without him even having to think. "Maybe. She's… definitely different."

"Well, it sure didn't seem like she thought you smelled funny back at the school," Uncle Bucky said. "She seemed pretty smitten, if you ask me."

"You think so?"

"Yep. Just don't tell your dads I said so, okay?"

"Mmm. I'm sure Uncle James will give them a full report anyway. He always does."

"That's 'cause he's gotta play the strict uncle right now since he's the babysitter, while I'm just—"

"You're the fun uncle," Peter said as he took Uncle Bucky's knight, giving him a triumphant smile.

Uncle Bucky shot him a playful frown as he eyed the chessboard. "Well, I guess that's better than being the crazy one."

"You're not crazy, Uncle Bucky," Peter insisted. "You're fun."

"Yeah, that's what Стиви used to say," Uncle Bucky said, chuckling. "You really are a lot like him."

"Yeah, I s'pose."

"There're worse things, Петр. Стив and Тони are two really good guys, you're all damn lucky to have each other."

"Yeah, I know."

And Peter did know, he really did.

He just sometimes needed a reminder.

Peter studied the chessboard, contemplating if it was time to bring out his queen. "Thanks, Uncle Bucky," he said as he moved the queen, taking Uncle Bucky's other knight in the process. "I… needed to hear that."

"He says as he swipes my last knight!" Uncle Bucky said as he threw up his hands. "Geez!"

"Well, I had to distract you somehow," Peter said triumphantly. "And it obviously worked."

"Yeah, yeah." Uncle Bucky frowned for a moment, then shot Peter a playful wink.

"No problem, kiddo."

* * *

"Okay, babe, I think we've gotten all we can from here," Tony said as he entered a few final commands into the workstation. Steve gave a stiff nod, their rather terse conversation with Peter a few hours ago still echoing around in his mind.

"And we're done too, Cap, so we can be wheels up whenever you guys are ready," Natasha said over the comm. She, Clint, and Sam had been scouring the rest of the bunker for the better part of the night, searching for any further clues as to what HYDRA had been up to.

Unfortunately, they hadn't found much of anything. Everything in the place seemed to focus on the computer data and the strange-looking stasis pods in the opposite laboratory.

"Copy that, Nat, thanks," he said quietly.

"I'm gonna head back to the jet with this stuff," Bruce said, balancing at least five different pieces of computer equipment in his arms, along with several books on computer languages and theories and a Russian-English dictionary. Steve found it mildly amusing that with all of his vast knowledge and with JARVIS at his disposal, Bruce still preferred to use real books as references as often as possible.

Actually, now that he thought about it, Tony often had various books strewn about his workplaces at home, as did Peter, and actually Steve often did as well, but that was because he still felt more comfortable with books than electronic references, not because he was a genius.

He did find it amusing, though. And somewhat comforting, if he was honest.

"Sounds good, big guy," Tony said. Bruce gave a nod, barely avoiding bouncing off the corner of the counter before making it out the door.

"You doing okay there, hon?" Tony asked once Bruce was out of earshot. He frowned as soon as the words left his mouth, reaching for Steve's hand.

"Okay, that was a pretty stupid question, but—"

"I'll be fine, Tony," Steve said quietly, very grateful for JARVIS's subroutine that filtered out their private conversations from the Avengers' comms. He rolled his shoulders, trying to work out some of the tension locked deep inside. "I am looking forward to getting home."

"I think we all are," said Tony. "I think Pete's anxious for us to get home too."

"You do?" Steve asked. "He seemed pretty upset on the phone."

"Well, yeah, but I think a lot of that was him missing us," Tony said gently. "I've seen how he gets when you've been on missions without me, and he can get pretty grumpy. Add that on top of school and another growth spurt, and you've got one moody kid."

"Mmm, if you say so," Steve said warily. He dropped his chin to his chest, shaking his head. "I don't know, Tony. I can't shake the feeling that by trying to protect him, I'm somehow pushing him away."

"Hey. You're not the only one who's trying to protect him," Tony said with a frown. "And I don't care how strong he is, he's still just a kid, and no kid, not even a genius one, makes sound, rational decisions when they're fifteen. I know I sure as hell didn't."

"No, I'm pretty sure that I didn't either," Steve said. He let out a soft groan when Tony's long fingers wound around to the back of his neck, kneading the tight muscles there. "Mmm, that feels good."

"I'm thinking I should give you another neck and shoulder rub once we get home," Tony murmured. "You seemed to like it the last time."

"That's 'cause you put me to sleep," Steve answered, practically slurring the words as his head lolled to the side, groaning again at the feel of Tony's glorious fingers digging into his flesh. "Your fingers are magical or something."

"Or something," Tony said with a wink. He tugged Steve's face closer, pecking him on the lips. "Don't worry about Pete, honey. He wouldn't get so defensive if he didn't love you."

"Yeah, maybe. You think it's still okay for him to go over to his friend's house like that?"

Tony let out a heavy sigh, his hands coming to rest on Steve's hips. "I've had JARVIS look into the girl's dad, and he can't seem to find anything about him that I'd consider dirty, and that includes any possible connections to that asshole Senator Davis. And with all these new names we're gonna be looking into and the fact that some idiot or idiots keep trying to attack the Damage Control convoys, right now I'm thinking that maybe we don't need to worry as much about George Stacy and just let Pete have a new friend. It's about damn time that someone besides Ned realised how awesome Pete is anyway."

"All right," Steve said. He pulled Tony closer, tucking his head under his chin. "Even though the friend is a girl?"

"Nothing wrong with girls," Tony mumbled into Steve's uniform, which definitely needed a good wash. "Especially one whose idea of a good first date involves introducing the boy to her parents."

Steve smiled into Tony's hair. "Back in my day, being invited to a girl's house for dinner meant that you were pretty serious about her."

"Well, thank God we're not still back in your day, babe, 'cause Pete's not getting serious about a girl or boy or anyone else until he's at least twenty-five. I won't be ready for it before then."

"All right. Should we tell him that, just in case he's wondering?" Steve asked, chuckling.

Tony looked up at him in shock. "Hell no! He's too busy being a moody teenager, remember? Right now twenty-five sounds positively ancient to him."

"Ancient?" Steve exclaimed. "I'm already ninety-four! If he thinks twenty-five is ancient then what does he think of me?"

"Absolutely nothing at all, babe. You're just his papa."

"'Just' his papa?" Steve asked, quirking an eyebrow. "Well, _that's_ encouraging."

Tony shot him one of Peter's _duh_ looks. "Not 'just' just, honey. I only meant that you're his parent, so that automatically makes you old. It's no different for me. And there's no way in hell that you look a day over thirty, so don't you go on boasting that you're ninety-four and think you can get away with it."

"Well, technically I really am only thirty anyway, so—"

"Yeah, yeah, and I'm a cradle-robber. I get it."

Steve's head snapped back in confusion, not understanding that reference.

"You're a… what?"

"Ah, nevermind," Tony said quickly. He cupped Steve's face in his hands, giving him a sweet, lingering kiss. "Let's go home, yeah?"

Steve had just opened his mouth to answer when Clint's voice sounded in his ear.

"Um, you guys aren't in there getting frisky, are ya? We're all ready to get the hell outta here!"

Tony rolled his eyes so hard that Steve almost had to catch him. "Jesus _Christ_, Barton! What in the _hell _is wrong with you?"

"Holy shit, that's exactly what you were doing, isn't it!" Clint responded. "And you say _I'm _unbelievable?"

"That is absolutely _not_ what we're doing, Clint," Steve said in his Captain's voice. "We'll be right out."

"Yeah, yeah, sure. We'll be watching the clock!"

"Why's it always gotta be him?" Tony lamented as Steve removed the comm piece from his ear. "It's almost like he does it on purpose!"

"Even when we're not doing anything," Steve added. He grinned down at his husband, pulling him close and nuzzling his temple. "Although I absolutely would not be against doing something once we get home."

"Oh really, _Captain?_ Do tell me more."

"Well… a shower sounds pretty nice, for starters."

"Yes, yes, I'm all for showering. All the easier to get you naked."

"And I'm sure you can guess the rest, mo grá, you're pretty smart," Steve murmured. He was already cursing their twelve-plus hours flight time. "But why does your undersuit have to be so form-fitting?"

"Hmm, maybe because it's specifically designed to cushion my body during flight while at the same time not interfere with the armour?" Tony said, rather cheekily. "And maybe also because I happen to be aware of how much you might like it on me?"

"Oh, are you now?" Steve asked, trying to look innocent. Tony was absolutely correct though, he did cut a very handsome figure in that undersuit of his. And in pretty much anything else that we wore as well.

Or didn't wear. Steve really wasn't picky when it came down to it.

"Is that a confession, Captain?" Tony said slyly. "Wow, that was almost too easy."

Steve laughed, an action that had been so rare lately that it almost felt foreign. "Well, you do always say that I'd made a horrible spy."

"That's 'cause it's the absolute truth," agreed Tony. He tugged Steve's face down for another kiss, one that nearly made Steve's knees buckle. "But you are pretty cute, so I guess I'll keep you anyway."

"Well, thank goodness," Steve murmured. "For a second there I thought I was gonna have to change my plans."

"Whew! Crisis averted." Tony pecked him one final time, then stepped into his armour and grabbed Steve's waist. "Shall we, babe?"

"We shall," Steve said as he secured his shield and grabbed onto Tony's armoured shoulders. For all of the reservations he'd had about flying with Tony at first, he absolutely loved it now.

"Let's go home."

* * *

_**I can't wait to see what you think! Please don't hesitate to leave me a review!**_


	5. Chapter 5

The splash of the hot water raining down onto Tony's chilled skin and tight muscles felt like tiny electrical shocks prickling throughout his body, and he let out a shiver as he backed further into the huge master shower so Steve could step inside. There was a shower on the Quinjet, of course, but given that it was barely large enough for Steve to fit inside by himself and that Tony often was piloting the jet at least half of the time, the two of them usually just waited until they were home and could shower together in peace.

Which is exactly what they were doing now. The Quinjet had touched down on the Tower landing pad at just after 1pm, and after sending Peter a quick text that they were home and would be picking him up from school after his practise, Steve had scheduled a debriefing for the next morning, made small talk with Rhodey for a few minutes to thank him for staying with Peter, and then pretty much dragged Tony into their bedroom, leaving DUM-E and U tasked with unpacking their stuff from the jet.

Tony shivered again as Steve's left arm slipped around his waist, pressing his back up against Steve's broad chest. His head tipped back against Steve's shoulder, his eyes fluttering closed as Steve reached for his bar of soap, the plain Ivory soap that he'd used ever since he was a kid, and began stroking it gently across Tony's chest.

"Mmm," Tony moaned softly as Steve finished with the soap and reached next for Tony's shampoo, proceeding to wash his hair with such attention and care that Tony couldn't help but moan again. Steve was so physically strong; an attribute that he had demonstrated on so many occasions that Tony had long lost count, and yet he was so gentle with Tony that it no doubt took more of Steve's strength to reign himself in than it did to express it fully.

And while it sometimes annoyed Tony that Steve thought he needed to treat him with kid gloves—he _was_ Iron Man, damnit—there was no way he was going to complain about the way Steve's large hands were currently sliding across his head and body.

His hair rinsed and conditioned, Tony turned in Steve's hold, pressing a light kiss to his stubbled chin as he reached for the soap bar so he could wash his husband's exquisite body, lingering on his gorgeous pecs and abs while Steve's intense blue eyes never wavered from Tony's face. It was something that Steve had been doing quite a bit ever since the battle down in Miami, as if he was afraid Tony might up and disappear if he happened to look away. His expression was a mixture of love, longing, and the tiny hint of disbelief that Tony knew still lingered in the back of Steve's mind, the disbelief that he had a husband and a son who loved him, something he never thought that he might actually get to have.

"Hey," Tony murmured, just loud enough to be heard over the water splashing down on their bodies. He took Steve's left hand, placing the palm of it against his chest over his heart so Steve could feel his heartbeat. On the nights where Steve had nightmares, the first thing Tony always did for him once he was calmed down was to place his hand over his heart, showing Steve that yes, he was still alive and with him.

"I'm still here, honey," he added when Steve didn't answer. "I'm right here."

"I know," Steve answered, sniffing as a large bead of water rolled down the bridge of his nose. He quickly brushed it away, turning Tony back around while still keeping his palm over Tony's heart, his free hand tracing the chain holding his dog tags before moving down to splay across Tony's abdomen, his lips brushing along Tony's jaw and neck.

"I know you're still here, mo grá," he whispered. "I know because I can see you. I can hear your heart beating, and taste the salt on your skin, and smell the shampoo in your hair. And I can feel your beautiful body against mine."

"_Steve,"_ Tony said on a gasp as Steve's right hand slid down to his pelvis, pressing him even closer, so close that Tony could feel the thud of Steve's heart against his back. Steve had looked so exhausted on the flight home that Tony had had half a mind to insist that they just take a nap after they got cleaned up, but it was now very obvious that Steve had other things on his mind besides sleep.

"_Steve,"_ he said again as Steve's lips latched onto his pulse point. He wound his arm around Steve's neck and turned his head to meet Steve's kiss, one so tender and passionate that Tony's knees almost gave way. It was as if Steve was parched, dying of thirst, and Tony was the water that would save him.

"I want you," Steve growled low into Tony's ear, his lips traveling up and down Tony's neck and shoulder. "Ba mhaith liom tú chomh holc sin. Please, sweetheart, can I have you?"

"God, _yes_," Tony breathed, already a bit lightheaded from the warm, humid air and the deluge of sensation coursing through his body. He reached around Steve's body to grab his ass, giving it a hard squeeze and delighting in the high-pitched squeak he pulled from his husband's throat. "Just tell me where and how."

Steve's arms tightened even more around him as he sucked a mark into the top of Tony's shoulder, soothing it with his tongue. "On our bed, mo grá, where I can lay you out in front of me and touch as much of you as possible."

"Sounds like a plan," croaked Tony, his gasp swallowed by Steve's mouth as Steve somehow managed to shut off the shower spray with his elbow and guided Tony out, quickly toweling them both off before hoisting Tony into his arms and carrying him towards their bed. Tony shivered as the cool, dry air of their bedroom hit his overheated skin, but kept his eyes firmly on Steve as he laid him down and crawled up over him, cupping his cheek, his lust-blown eyes still radiating that ever-present edge of fear.

"I'm still here, Steve," Tony said, a bit more emphatically this time. "I'm right in front of you."

Steve gave a quick nod, the corners of his full lips curling into the soft smile that only he ever saw.

"I know," he whispered. "I know you are."

Tony slid his palms up Steve's strong arms and across his broad shoulders to his neck, tugging his head down for a slow, deep kiss, rolling his hips up to meet Steve's as their tongues danced together.

"Then, are you planning to do something about it?" he whispered against Steve's lips.

Steve's smile grew wider as his eyes scanned the length of Tony's body, his fingers ghosting down Tony's side until he reached underneath him to press their hips together. Tony moaned as his legs instinctively wrapped around Steve's waist, craving more of his touch, more of his taste, more of his scent.

More of _him._

"Yes, I am," Steve murmured as he kissed Tony's neck right below his ear, smirking when Tony let out a full-body shudder. After three years together Steve knew Tony's body like the back of his hand, knew all of his sweet spots, and he never failed to demonstrate that fact when they were being intimate.

Nor did he ever let Tony forget it, the cheeky bastard.

"Are you just gonna spend the next two hours teasing me, _Captain_?" he asked, almost afraid of the answer. It wasn't as though Steve hadn't ever done just that, and on more than one occasion.

Steve chuckled against Tony's chest. "I could," he said as he ground his hips down, his beautiful face twisting into a look of pure bliss at the delicious friction. Tony's breath caught at the sight of it, of his husband hovering over him, bathed in the afternoon autumn sunlight streaming through their bedroom windows, storing the image away in the deep recesses of his mind so he could pull it out at leisure later on.

"Holy shit, baby, you're just so fucking gorgeous," he whispered, burying his fingers into Steve's thick blond hair. "How are you even real?"

"I'm just as real as you are, sweetheart," Steve answered. He kissed back up to Tony's mouth, his tongue splitting Tony's lips.

"Not true," Tony gasped as Steve's fingers trailed down his sternum and abdomen to wrap around his erection. "Pretty sure anyone who's as pretty as you isn't completely mortal."

"Shh," Steve murmured as his lips kissed down the trail left behind by his fingers, giving Tony a couple of teasing licks as he locked eyes with him, grinning so innocently that Tony couldn't help but laugh.

"You're not fooling anyone with the whole innocent routine, honey," he said. "Or at least not anymore."

"Who says I was trying?" Steve asked, his cheeky grin growing even wider as his fingers curled around Tony's hipbones. Tony groaned as Steve licked him again, his hands gripping Steve's hair and his entire body tingling like it was ready to short-circuit.

"Goddamnit, Steve, _please!"_

"Please what, sweetheart? Tell me what you want."

"I want _you_," Tony answered. He tugged on Steve's hair, bringing him back up so he could kiss him. "I want you to get me ready, and then I want you to curl that incredible god-like body of yours around me and take me. And I want you to do it now."

Steve shuddered as he pressed his forehead against Tony's, his thumb rubbing soft circles on Tony's cheekbone.

"I love you, sweetheart," he whispered. "I love you so damn much, and I—"

Tony silenced him with another kiss. It was on the tip of his tongue to say something funny, but he held back. Despite what they had found at the Mongolian bunker and how worried Steve was about it, at the moment he seemed completely relaxed, and Tony wasn't about to ruin it with one of his ill-timed snarky remarks.

So instead he just kissed Steve again, whispering, "I love you too, baby. Now, show me."

* * *

"So, does your family usually do anything special for Thanksgiving?" Gwen asked, peeking at Peter over the screen of her laptop. The two of them were sprawled across the floor in her living room surrounded by their schoolbooks, with Peter flat on his stomach balancing chemistry equations while Gwen sat at the coffee table, working on a paper for their history class. Peter had already finished his paper on food rationing in Europe during World War II, thanks to some inside information from Papa and Uncle Bucky.

"Oh yeah," Peter answered. "Papa and Uncle Sam do most of the cooking while the rest of us watch football and try and stay out of their way. Then once they're done we eat and play games. Or fall asleep on the couch, in my Uncle Clint's case. He always says that's what you're supposed to do after eating Thanksgiving dinner."

Gwen smiled, sending a bolt of warmth down Peter's spine. So far, aside from a few rather stern side-eyes from Chief Stacy on the way to Gwen's house, there hadn't been all that much awkwardness between them. Peter didn't even feel the need to be constantly talking, which he often tended to do when he was especially nervous.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure one or two of my uncles would agree," Gwen said. "And my grandpa too."

"Do any of them live around here?" asked Peter.

"Nah," Gwen said with a shake of her head. She grabbed onto the end of her ponytail, giving it a light tug. "My father's side of the family still lives in the Bronx, and my mom's is in Jersey. We don't see each other that often though. My dad and his brothers don't always get along."

"Oh," Peter said, wincing as a loud thudding noise sounded from one of the bedrooms of the two-story walkup Gwen called home. A second later there was a piercing shriek accompanied by a shouted, "I didn't do anything!" followed immediately by a, "Yeah you did, don't lie!" Gwen, Peter had found out earlier that day, was the oldest of four children, with three younger brothers.

"Um… is that normal?" Peter asked after a short pause when no parent came running to make sure that no one was dead or bleeding or something. There was no way either Dad or Papa would ever not investigate if Peter had happened to shriek like that at home. No possible way.

"Oh, yeah," Gwen said nonchalantly, rolling her eyes. "They're probably just fighting over who gets to use the blue controller for their PlayStation. Apparently the blue controller works better than the red one, helps Nathan Drake jump a split-second faster or something like that. Don't worry about it. As long as there's no visible blood and everyone's conscious, they're fine."

"Oh. Okay," Peter said with wide eyes as he picked up his pencil. Being the only child of two only children, Peter really had no experience with sibling dynamics. Even Ned was an only child.

Another thud sounded from the bedroom, this time followed by a gleeful, "Woohoo! Did you _see _that! That was totally _awesome!"_

"See? They're back to normal already," said Gwen.

Peter gave an uncertain nod. "Okay." _If you say so._

"I don't even notice it most of the time," Gwen added. "They've been noisy pretty much since they were born, so I guess I'm just used to it."

"Okay," Peter said again, feeling very much like one of Papa's old records that had gotten stuck. "Um—"

He was cut off by the sound of approaching footsteps, and he turned to see Mrs Stacy standing in the doorway. "Dinner's ready," she said with a kind smile. "Gwen, why don't you show your friend where the bathroom is so he can wash his hands?"

"Oh, sure," Gwen answered as her mother stepped over to the foot of the stairs, cupping her hands around her mouth.

"Boys!" she shouted, raising all the hair on the back of Peter's neck as he got to his feet, fighting the urge to cover his ears. "Dinner!"

Her announcement was followed by a series of thundering footsteps, clomping down the wooden stairs like a stampede of wild animals. Gwen quickly closed her laptop and got to her feet, grabbing Peter's wrist and jerking her head down a short hallway off to the left.

"We have incoming," she said with a sigh. "And the bathroom's that way."

"Thanks," mumbled Peter, ducking down into his hoodie until he had closed the bathroom door. He dug his hand into his jeans pocket, fishing out the earplugs that he had forgotten to put in before Mr Stacy had picked he and Gwen up from school and quickly inserted them, breathing out a short sigh of relief when the noise dulled down to a more manageable level.

"That's better," he said to his reflection, wrinkling his nose as he noticed a blemish forming on his upper lip. He didn't get zits all that often, probably due to his healing factor, but when he did they tended to be doozies. Guess it was time to stock back up on the zit cream he ran out of over a week ago.

After washing his hands and smoothing out his hair as best as he could, Peter followed the sound of overlapping voices into the dining room, where Mrs Stacy was just setting down the last of the serving dishes.

"I've placed you there next to George, Peter," she said.

"Thank you," Peter said with a gulp as he slid into the chair at Mr Stacy's left. He awkwardly cleared his throat, taking the dishes of grilled fish and seasoned green beans as they were passed to him and very much aware that his face was likely the colour of an overripe tomato. Again.

"So, Peter," Mrs Stacy said once everyone had started eating. "Have you always lived in that huge Tower?"

Peter shook his head, his mouth full of green beans, which while rather good were nowhere near as good as Papa's. "No, not always, when I was little we lived in a different house a bit further away. The Tower wasn't done being built until I was five. And in the summers we'd always go back to Malibu, until—"

"Is that your house that got blown up?" asked the smallest of the boys, who was sitting to Peter's left. "We saw it on the news!"

"Simon!" Mrs Stacy admonished as she shot Peter an apologetic glance. "I'm sure Peter doesn't really want to talk about that."

"No, it's okay," Peter said, even as his heart fluttered and a hard lump rose in his throat. "Y-yeah. That—that's the one."

"Did you live with your mom at your old house?" the boy—Simon, apparently—asked. "Is that why you moved?"

"Simon!" Gwen exclaimed. "Those are really personal questions you're asking!"

The boy gave an unaffected shrug. "So? We all know it's what Dad's thinking anyway, I'm just the only one brave enough to ask 'em out loud."

"My mom's dead," Peter said shortly. He looked down at his plate, breathing in and out slowly and very much aware of both Gwen and Mr Stacy's eyes on him. "I never met her."

"Oh. That's too bad, Peter," said Mrs Stacy. "I'm very sorry."

Peter shrugged, trying to smile. "Nah, it's okay. I have two dads that are both pretty cool, so I think I'm good."

An awkward pause followed, finally broken when Mrs Stacy cleared her throat. "So, Peter, Gwen tells us that you're in Academic Decathlon as well?"

Once again Peter had to finish chewing before he could answer. "Ah, yeah. She's really good, our team's gonna be hard to beat this year."

"Peter's already finished with his essay," Gwen said, smiling at Peter over the top of her water glass. "Course he kinda has an advantage, having a living legend for a father who actually lived through a lot of the stuff that he wrote about."

"Yes, I'm sure that comes in handy from time to time," Mr Stacy said suddenly. "Although I'm not sure I'd specifically choose the term, 'living legend'."

"Why not, Dad?" the middle boy piped up from across the table. "Captain America is pretty cool, we even learned about him at school!"

Mr Stacy frowned as he took a sip of his water. "Yes, but why did you learn about him? What has he done that makes his life worthy of being taught to a fifth grader? It's not like you're learning about military strategies or how to vaporise aliens yet, are you?"

The boy scowled. "It was in Social Studies, Dad, a section on bullying and how to stand up for yourself. We watched a video."

"My papa's done all sorts of videos for the school," Peter said. "Our principal asked him 'cause his grandfather was one of Papa's Howling Commandos. We watch his fitness challenge videos in our gym class, and he's also done some on bullying and following rules for the younger kids."

"Hmph," grumbled Mr Stacy. "Following rules. And which rules does he follow, exactly? Who gets to decide what rules the Avengers follow, hmm?"

Peter's belly gave a swoop at Mr Stacy's gruff tone, and he set down his fork, taking a slow, deliberate sip of his water.

"My papa is the leader of the Avengers," he said evenly. "But the whole team works together. My dad designs and manufactures their equipment, Papa plans their missions, my Uncle Sam—"

"Yes, but how does he decide what constitutes a mission?" asked Mr Stacy. "Gwen told us that the Avengers were just gone on one of these missions for over a week, but yet no one knows exactly what they were doing."

"Uhh—"

"Or what they managed to accomplish. I mean, for all we know all they managed to do is cause another huge mess that'll have to be cleaned up."

Anger flashed through Peter like lightning, and he fought against the urge to scowl, very much aware of Gwen's eyes shooting darts of mortification and apology.

_Maybe Dad and Papa were right about Mr Stacy afterall._

"I'm not—I'm not sure what you're implying, sir," he said, as politely as he could muster. "But if you're referring to the Battle of New York and the Battle of the Triskelion, my dad has been working very hard with the Department of Damage Control to make sure that those areas that were affected are being cleaned up as quickly and as safely as possible."

Mr Stacy waved a dismissive hand. "I'm sure he has, and I'm sure to you it doesn't seem odd that the very people who caused the mess in the first place are now being paid to clean it up."

"George, is this really necessary for dinnertime conversation?" Mrs Stacy cut in. "We're here to get to know Peter, not to pester him questions about his parents that he probably doesn't even know the answers to."

"My dad doesn't get paid to run the Department of Damage Control," Peter said firmly. "The government and Stark Industries pays the rest of the employees, but my dad doesn't accept a cent for it. And the Avengers have never taken any outside support from anyone. Anything they have, they've either built or bought for themselves. They're a completely private organisation."

Mr Stacy's eyes narrowed as he held eye contact with Peter, almost daring him to look away. "A private organisation," he finally said. "With no oversight."

"Well… no, not from outside the team," said Peter. He'd never actually thought of it like that. "I guess my papa's the oversight."

"Mmmhmm. And what happens if someone happens to say 'no' the next time the Avengers want to just waltz into another country on one of their missions, hmm? Would they leave?"

"Dad, c'mon, we really don't need to talk about this, do we?" said Gwen.

"Why not?" asked Mr Stacy. "If these Avengers are living in my precinct, then I think these are questions that I deserve to have answered."

"Um… well, I s'pose it would depend," Peter stammered, giving Gwen what he hoped was an appreciative look. "Papa would never do anything specifically against the wishes of another country's government, so—"

"And you're sure about that?" asked Mr Stacy. "Absolutely sure?"

"Yes, I am," answered Peter. "I know my papa, and I know that he doesn't think of himself as above the law. Not in any country. The Avengers aren't vigilantes, they're just… extra equipped to take on certain threats. And by doing that, they help keep everyone else safer. Just like the police force."

"I see," said Mr Stacy. "So then I suppose you don't agree with the theory that if the Avengers hadn't managed to piss off the god or alien or whoever-the-hell-it-was that brought all those… _things _to New York, that there wouldn't've been any reason for them to exist in the first place?"

Peter hadn't realised how tightly he was holding his fork until he looked down and saw that it was starting to mould to his fingers. He loosened his grip, trying to bend it back without looking too obvious as he struggled to think of a response.

_Papa always says that we can stick up for ourselves, but still be polite about it._

"No, I do not," he said. "If the Battle of New York hadn't happened, that doesn't mean that nothing else would've, so having an already assembled team that can take care of the big threats like that makes a lot of sense."

"Ah huh. Even if they're now inspiring other people to try and play superhero?" asked Mr Stacy. "Does that change your opinion at all?"

Peter glanced over at Gwen, who gave a subtle shake of her head. "I'm sorry, I'm not sure who you mean—"

"Dad probably means the Spider-Man," said the oldest boy, causing Peter to freeze. "He really doesn't like him, even though I thought he was cool."

"Hey, I said he was cool first!" protested Simon. "I mean, did you see the way he stopped that runaway car that one time? That was way cool!"

"And as I've said multiple times, being a vigilante is never cool," said Mr Stacy. "That… guy wearing a red and blue leotard and flying around Queens on ropes might've been able to do one decent thing, but he was also interfering with police business and is damn lucky that he hasn't inspired some other kids with too much time on their hands to do the same, or someone could really get hurt."

"I don't believe that he was trying to interfere with police business, sir," Peter said quietly. "I believe he was only trying to help."

"Yeah, I'm sure you would believe that, considering where you come from," Mr Stacy said. "But I'll also tell you that our police have orders to arrest this so-called Spider-Man on sight if he ever dares to show his mask again in public, and if I had my way, that would extend to anyone else who wants to try something stupid like that. No one should be operating above the law. No one."

Peter bit down on his bottom lip so hard that he nearly drew blood. He knew he should probably just keep his mouth shut and try and enjoy the rest of the meal, but he couldn't just sit there and listen to his family be insulted, or just brush off the fact that such a high-ranking police officer couldn't seem to see that Peter had been doing good things with Spider-Man, not trying to interfere with his police force.

"And if he happened to join the Avengers, sir?" he asked.

"Who, Spider-Man?" said Mr Stacy.

"Yes, Spider-Man," Peter answered, clearing his throat. "If somewhere down the line this Spider-Man happened to officially join the Avengers, would your opinion of him change?"

Mr Stacy stared at Peter while he chewed, and Peter held his gaze, almost daring him to look away. "And who would get to decide if he can join the Avengers? Captain Rogers?"

"We don't know if he's even a he!" exclaimed the middle boy. "For all we know he could be a girl!"

"The whole team would decide," Peter said. "My papa is the Captain, but something like that they would all decide on together, as a team. That's how they work."

"I see." Mr Stacy gave Peter a rather ominous smile. "And therein lies the problem, I think. With no oversight, what's to stop the Avengers from adding enough members to their roster until they have their very own army, hmm? And then what? Us laypeople are just supposed to accept it while they go about their merry avenging business? You may think that the Avengers are like rock stars, that everybody out there just adores them, but son, I assure you that that's not the case. Captain Rogers, Dr Banner, and that Thor guy who shows up from time to time, they're all enhanced individuals, and who's to say there aren't more of 'em out there who would just as soon snap someone's neck like a twig than protect us from invading aliens. Don't you think we should be able to know who those people are?"

Burning hot anger surged through Peter, so strongly that he felt like stomping a hole through the floor. It didn't help that he was already tired so his vision was starting to warp, requiring a good deal of his concentration to keep it somewhat normal. His senses always got messed up when he was tired or upset, and even worse when he was both.

"My papa would _never_ do such a thing, and neither would Dr Banner," he said through clenched teeth. "And I know for a fact that neither of them would be in favour of… identification or anything of the sort, if that's what you're suggesting. And none of the rest of the team would be in favour of it either."

Mr Stacy leaned forward, his jaw set. "I was there, that night in Harlem when the Hulk and that other thing went nuts and destroyed ten city blocks. And I was also there during the Battle of New York, watching as those alien things destroyed buildings and killed people. And both times we lost a lot of officers. Good, loyal officers, who had families, and yet the Avengers seem to come out okay every single time. Don't they."

_But they don't! _Peter wanted to shout. _My dad was almost killed during that last battle, but since we can't tell anyone what really happened, no one else can know!_

But he knew he couldn't say anything because then his cover would be blown. Dad and Pepper had finally been able to debunk the incriminating video that had been sent to the media just before they were kidnapped from the Tower, so it was even more important now to keep a lid on what had happened down in Miami or else the media scrutiny and government interference would just become unbearable all over again.

"The Avengers are a family as well, sir," Peter said, his voice trembling despite his best efforts to keep it steady. "My parents are married just like you and Mrs Stacy, and while my aunt and uncles aren't related to me by blood, that doesn't mean that I love them any less. And just because my papa and Uncle Bruce are enhanced it doesn't mean they're not people, just like the rest of us."

_Or at least, like the rest of you._

"Dad, please!" Gwen pleaded. "I thought you'd wanna ask Peter about school and stuff, not interrogate him with questions about his parents' jobs."

The heavy pause that followed was finally broken by the sound of wood scraping against wood as Mrs Stacy scooted back her chair.

"I think it's time for dessert," she said with false enthusiasm. "Don't you all agree?"

"I'm always ready for dessert," said Simon as Mrs Stacy disappeared into the kitchen. "Is it that cake that I saw in the kitchen?"

"Mom makes the best cakes," Gwen said. "People even order them for parties and stuff, so I think you're gonna love it."

"Oh, that sounds good. I'm looking forward to it," Peter said. He looked down at his unfinished dinner, shoving a few more bites of fish into his mouth so he didn't look too rude, even though everything he'd already eaten was just sitting in the pit of his stomach like a massive brick.

Peter wasn't about to stop hanging out with Gwen just because her father seemed to be a first-class jerk, but he did have to admit he hoped that she could come to the Tower next time. Peter knew Dad had already researched Mr Stacy exhaustively, and he was such a smooth-talking charmer that there'd be no way he'd ask Gwen such personal questions to her face.

"And here we are," Mrs Stacy said as she reentered the dining room, carrying a large silvertoned platter laden with a huge three layer cake. She set it down in the middle of the table, handing Gwen a cutting knife.

"Would you like to serve your friend first, Gwen?" she asked.

Smiling, Gwen cut a big slice of the cake, which was covered in a rich vanilla frosting, and handed it to Peter. He dug his fork into the spongy cake, bringing a large bite to his lips. It tasted just as yummy as Gwen had said, and it wasn't until Peter had eaten three more bites that his nose finally caught on to the smell he had noticed almost right away but hadn't quite processed since he was so upset.

It was peppermint.

Almost as soon as it registered in his mind Peter broke out into a cold sweat, setting down his fork with a shaking hand and reaching for his water glass, hoping against hope that the water would help calm his churning stomach even as he knew that it had never worked in the past. Not three seconds later his fingers and toes started to tingle and burning hot pain shot from his neck down his spine and out to his arms and legs, as if his very nerves were singeing, and he couldn't help but let out a gasp at the intensity of it.

"Peter?" Gwen asked, her pretty face twisted in alarm. "You're as white as a sheet, are you okay?"

"Um…" he stammered, gasping again at a particularly horrible twinge of pain. He pushed himself back from the table, calling out a belated, "Please excuse me," as he stumbled towards the hallway bathroom, managing to make it just in time to barf up the entire contents of his stomach into the toilet.

"That's just so freaking _gross!_" he whimpered, clinging to the toilet bowl with clammy hands and squeezing his eyes closed as the shivers started to take over his body. He hadn't had an accidental peppermint exposure in over a year, ever since Dad had banned the substance completely from the Tower under the guise that Peter had developed a severe allergy to it.

Which actually wasn't even much of a lie. Thanks to his spider DNA, in large enough quantities peppermint could even kill him.

He sat in a crumpled heap on the floor for a couple of minutes, fighting against the dry heaves that always followed until he felt strong enough to attempt to stand. His arms and legs were shaking violently and tingling like he'd been electrocuted as he splashed some cold water on his face and rinsed out his mouth, trying to take the slow, deep breaths through his nose that Uncle Sam had taught him.

"Stand by, Master Peter," JARVIS suddenly said from Peter's pocket, where his phone was resting. "Mr Stark and Captain Rogers are en route to your location, with an estimated arrival time of ten minutes. Are you requiring any further medical assistance?"

Groaning, Peter pulled the phone from his pocket. "No, JARVIS," he said. "Just ready to go home."

A loud knock on the bathroom door startled Peter, nearly causing him to drop the phone. "Peter?" Gwen said through the door. "Are you all right?"

Peter inhaled a deep breath before opening the door to find a very concerned Gwen holding an ice pack, a towel, and a handful of wrapped peppermint candies. Peter immediately jumped back, clapping his hand over his mouth and barely managing to avoid lurching again.

"Peppermint!" he gasped. "I'm—I'm allergic, can you—can you—?"

"Oh my God!" Gwen shrieked as she shoved the candies into her pocket, then changed her mind and ran back towards the kitchen, returning with a piece of lemon candy from the smell of it.

"I'm so sorry!" she exclaimed. "Mom always says that peppermint helps calm your stomach if you're feeling sick, but I suppose that wouldn't work too well if you're allergic to it!"

"No, not exactly," Peter answered as he accepted the ice pack, draping it over the back of his neck as he blotted his sweaty face with the towel. "Thank you, Gwen."

Gwen shook her head, her long ponytail swinging against her shoulders. "Oh gosh, it's okay! I just wish you would've told me ahead of time that you were allergic to peppermint, I could've had Mom make something else for dessert."

"Yeah… I kinda—I kinda forgot about it, actually. It's been awhile since I've had a reaction like that, so…"

"Well, if it's that bad, I'm surprised that you don't wear one of those medical alert bracelets or something," said Gwen. "'Cause you really should, you never know when you might get exposed, and… I gotta say, I've never seen anyone else's face lose all of its colour that fast."

Peter gave a nod, both surprised and grateful that the lemon drop did seem to be calming his stomach a bit.

"Yeah. I'll… um… tell my dads about it." He huffed out a sharp breath, wincing as another bolt of tingling pain rushed up his spine, nearly causing him to cry out. The nerve pain was always the last thing to go away after a peppermint exposure, and it was pretty awful while it lasted.

"Oh, you're really not okay," Gwen said worriedly as she wrapped her arm around Peter's waist, trying to help support his weight. "Did you already call your dads? 'Cause I know you said they were gonna pick you up, but you probably should—and Mom was wondering if she should call an ambulance or something, so—"

"No!" Peter shrieked, causing Gwen's eyes to go wide. That was the absolute last thing Peter needed at the moment. "I mean, my dads, they're already on their way. I called them, and… yeah. They're on their way, but… um… is it okay if we go and wait for them on the steps or something, 'cause I'm still a bit—"

"Oh, sure! The fresh air'll probably help," Gwen said. "Or, at least as fresh as you can get in New York City. I'll go and get your stuff."

"Yeah, thanks," Peter said, trying to smile. Of course the first time he was ever this close to a girl that he liked it had to be when he was so sick that he could barely walk.

'Cause, why the hell not?

The crisp evening air did help Peter feel a little bit better as he and Gwen sank down onto the brick steps in front of her house, with Peter using all of his remaining strength just to keep himself from keeling over. He was still sweating like a pig and trying not to shiver out of his skin because of it, but his stomach seemed to have calmed down enough for him to hopefully make it home.

And as badly as he just wanted to get home, he was absolutely _not_ looking forward to the inevitable questions that would no doubt lead to yet another lecture from his dads.

They sat in a semi-comfortable silence until Papa's truck pulled up, with Dad jumping out of the passenger side almost before it came to a complete stop, a very worried look on his face.

"Pete?" he said, giving Gwen a quick, cursory nod. "You okay, buddy?"

"Mr—Mr Stark, I'm so sorry, we didn't know that he's allergic to peppermint," Gwen said. "And my mom made a cake, and—"

"Yeah, yeah, okay," Dad cut in. He sat down next to Peter, blotting his forehead with the towel still hanging around his neck. "How much of it did you eat, bud?"

"Just a few bites, maybe three or four," Peter answered. He looked up into his father's worried eyes, kicking himself for not being stronger. This was not going to help ease his fathers' paranoia at all. "And then I threw it all up."

_And it's not like peppermint is hard to smell or anything! Geez!_

"I gave him a lemon drop, Mr Stark," Gwen added. "He said it helped a bit, and my mom offered to call an ambulance but Peter said you guys were already on the way, so…"

"Peter knows to call us first," Dad said, rather shortly as he took Peter's backpack from Gwen and handed her the towel. "C'mon, buddy, let's get you home, yeah?"

"Uh huh," Peter said sadly. He turned to Gwen, trying to smile. "See you tomorrow?"

"Yep," she said. "And if you're not feeling well enough to go to school in the morning, just let me know and I can bring your homework to you."

"Uh huh. Thanks."

Dad held onto Peter's elbow as they made their way to the truck, which was double-parked and blocking traffic as Peter crawled into the roomy backseat, laying down on his father's lap after Dad slid in next to him and covered him with a blanket. Papa looked back at them from the rearview mirror, what Dad always called his "worry wrinkle" on full display as he manoeuvered the truck back onto the street.

"Bruce said Dr Cho is already waiting for us in the penthouse," Papa said as he braked for a red light. "Are you sure that's gonna be enough?"

"Should be," answered Dad, his fingers carding through Peter's hair. "Pete said he threw up pretty quick afterwards, so I'm hoping that some of it is gone already. The rest is just supportive care until he can metabolise it all."

"All right," said Papa, his lips tightly pursed. "If you're sure."

"Please," Peter croaked through his raw throat. "I just wanna go home."

"All right, buddy," Dad murmured. "Then that's where we'll go."

Peter was so exhausted and drained once they pulled into the Tower parking garage that he didn't even try to argue when Papa lifted him out of the backseat like a baby and carried him the whole way up to the penthouse, with Peter resting his head against Papa's chest so he could hear his heartbeat. The pain was still intense but at least his stomach seemed to be okay, although at the moment Peter couldn't imagine ever being hungry again.

"Here we go, little guy," Papa said softly as he set Peter down on the living room couch, with he and Dad settling in on either side of him while Dr Cho took out her stethoscope to listen to Peter's chest.

"How much peppermint did you consume, Peter?" she asked, frowning as she listened.

"Um… I don't know exactly. It was baked into a cake, and—"

"And you didn't smell it beforehand?" asked Uncle Bruce. "Usually you're pretty good about that."

Peter sighed as he shook his head. "I didn't notice the smell until I'd eaten about three bites of it. I was—I was tired, and when I'm tired—"

"Pete's senses tend to get a bit out of whack when he's tired," said Dad. "And if he's using a lot of energy to keep his vision in focus, then sometimes his other senses suffer." He turned to Peter, eyeing him pointedly. "Which is why you should be wearing your glasses more often."

_Oh, crap._

"Um… I kinda broke 'em," Peter mumbled. "While you guys were gone." And if he was being truly honest, he didn't even know where they were at the moment.

Dad rolled his eyes at the same time as Peter felt Papa's shoulders drop. "Peter, why didn't you say anything?" asked Papa.

_You know damn well why,_ Peter thought, then immediately felt bad for even thinking it. As per their usual, Dad and Papa hadn't shared too many details from their recent mission since they'd been back, and Peter hadn't been able to get much of anything from JARVIS either. But Peter could tell that they had found something that had unnerved them both, even more than they were already.

Which was just perfect, 'cause exactly what Dad and Papa needed was even _more_ stuff to worry about.

"I guess I just forgot," Peter mumbled. "I'm sorry."

"How bad is the pain, Peter, on a scale of one to ten?" asked Dr Cho as she tested Peter's reflexes.

"I dunno, 'bout a seven, maybe?" Peter replied, flinching when Dr Cho hit a particularly tender spot on his knee. "It's already a bit better than it was at Gwen's house though."

Dr Cho gave him a kind smile as she gently patted his arm. "I'd like you to take it easy for the rest of the night, and make sure to stay warm. Heating pads on the most painful spots will help with the tingling. You should be okay by tomorrow, but if you wanted to stay home from school I wouldn't be opposed."

"He'll be staying home," Dad said firmly. "Don't wanna push things if we don't have to."

"Dad, I think I'll be fine by tomorrow—" Peter started.

"Dad's right, little guy, there's no sense in pushing things if we don't have to," Papa said in his Captain's voice, which Peter knew better than to argue with. "You can take it easy tomorrow and then go back the next day."

"Mmm. Fine." _So much for getting to see Gwen again tomorrow._

"I'll stop by and check on him tomorrow afternoon," said Dr Cho as she and Uncle Bruce got up to leave.

"Thank you," said Papa. "Tony and I both appreciate it."

As soon as the elevator doors had closed both Dad and Papa turned to Peter, wearing their nearly identical "worried dad looks" that had Peter wishing he could sink into the couch cushions and disappear.

"Were you planning on telling me that you'd broken your glasses anytime soon, or was I just supposed to guess?" asked Dad.

"Tony—"

"I was gonna," Peter interrupted. "Sometime… maybe when you weren't so busy."

"Good grief, Pete!" Dad exclaimed, rolling his eyes. "You know damn well that I'm never too busy for you! Especially for something as important as that!"

"Tony, I think we should table this for tomorrow," Papa said, shooting Dad a rather pointed look. "Right now I think we should get Peter into his room with some heating pads and some hot chocolate and just let him rest, okay?"

Dad pursed his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to Peter's forehead. "Yeah, yeah, honey, you're right. Sorry, bud."

"It's okay."

"All right, then let's get you situated," Papa said as he lifted Peter up, carrying him into his room. Peter was still shaky enough that Dad had to help him get undressed and into his pajamas, but once that was done and he was resting on top of three heating pads with two more draped over his knees and sipping some of Papa's awesome hot chocolate and some homemade soup, he did feel a bit better.

Peter wasn't a baby anymore, but that didn't mean he didn't still enjoy being babied a bit when he was sick, and he had to admit that Dad and Papa were very good at it.

And he definitely still enjoyed being cuddled to sleep, sandwiched between his dads and listening to their distinctive heartbeats as they lulled him to sleep. It was something he hoped to never outgrow.

As it was, Dad ended up falling asleep first, falling victim to Papa stroking his hair and the fact that he'd missed one or three of his evening cups of coffee. Dad's arm was draped across Peter's side, and as he shifted slightly he felt Papa readjusting one of his heating pads before gently kissing Peter's forehead.

"Papa?" he whispered.

"Mmmhmm?"

"Can I ask you a question?"

Papa propped himself up on his elbow, smiling down at Peter. "Sure, little guy. What's on your mind?"

"Um… I've always kinda wondered… did it hurt? When you got your serum procedure?"

Papa heaved out a sigh as he smoothed Peter's hair from his forehead. "Yeah, it did. It hurt quite a bit, actually, a lot more than I thought it would. Like I was being electrocuted, stretched, and showered with mustard gas all at the same time." He paused then, swallowing hard. "But it still wasn't as painful as when I thought I might lose you and Dad. I'd go through that procedure every single day for the rest of my life if it meant I didn't have to fear losing the two of you again."

"Christ, babe, you're such a sap," Dad suddenly mumbled from behind Peter. "Go to sleep before it rubs off on the kid, yeah?"

"And I thought you were already asleep, sweetheart," Papa answered, winking at Peter. "Which you should be since you didn't get any last night."

"Yeah, yeah, then quit your yapping already. Pete's tired."

"Dad's right, little guy," Papa said with a soft smile. "Go to sleep now."

Peter nodded, burrowing further into his blankets and closing his eyes, trying to focus only on the sound of his dads' heartbeats rather than the searing pain in his limbs. He highly doubted that Papa would get any sleep that night, especially if he was stuck so deep inside his own fears like he was.

There had to be a way for Peter to take some of his dads' burden from them without overtly disobeying them, there just _had_ to. And Peter was going to find it.

Whatever it took.

* * *

"_And as I promised you during my campaign, I will work together with our Congress to take back this country from the dredges of terrorism and fear, and I will do so without having to rely on outside sources for support! Our nation is a proud nation, and it will continue to be a proud nation, and I will do everything in my power to make that so!"_

"JARVIS, please mute," Steve said with a sigh as the raucous applause broke out in the Los Angeles auditorium where the newly-elected president was giving his victory speech. Steve pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to ease the tension headache he had been nursing for most of the day. It was inevitable, he supposed, given how badly the incumbent president had been faring lately in the polls, but Steve supposed that his old, optimistic self hadn't wanted to admit the possibility that he really could lose the election, until he had.

And now, come January, the United States was going to be under the leadership of one President Graham Cole, a candidate who ran mainly on a platform of nationalism and pride and a promise to end all domestic terrorism, which on the surface Steve supposed could be considered innocuous enough if he didn't know any better. But thanks to Tony's expert digging abilities, Steve was now well aware of President Cole's ties not only to Senator Kelly, but also to several U.S.-based corporations with very wealthy executives, making his victory seem almost like it was following a well-written script for a spy movie.

Especially since some of the corporations seemed to be nothing but shells for other corporations, based on Tony's research. Unfortunately, nothing that they had been able to uncover so far had been able to crack those shells, leaving both Tony and Steve extremely frustrated.

"Babe, why're you still watching that garbage?" Tony said as he came into the bedroom, cleaning his hands with an old towel. "You know it's just gonna make you upset. That guy blows the most hot air I've ever seen in a politician, and that's saying something."

"I know," Steve answered. "But at this point it's almost like a train wreck. I can't seem to look away."

"Well, train wreck is a rather appropriate metaphor." Tony tossed the towel into the nearby hamper and wound his arms around Steve's waist, hugging him from behind. "At least now we know who we have to watch out for."

"More of them," agreed Steve. "I don't think it's a coincidence that most of the newly-elected representatives and senators are all acquaintances of this President Cole."

Tony shook his head against Steve's back. "Hell no it's not, and I've already got JARVIS working on it. There's gotta be a commonality in there somewhere, we just haven't found it yet."

"Besides HYDRA?" Steve said as he turned in Tony's arms.

"It might not even be HYDRA, honey," Tony said gently. "But even if it was it would be a pretty bold move for them, especially after the disaster that was Project Insight. No, there has to be something else, something either so secret it's gonna be damn near impossible to find, or something so obvious it's gonna hit us right in the nose and then we'll spend a month or so kicking ourselves for missing it."

"Mmm," Steve muttered, his attention drawn back to the television screen, where President Cole had just been joined onstage by his wife and grown son. "Do we know anything about the son?"

Tony sighed as he stepped back, tugging off his shirt to start getting ready for bed. "Nothing other than he's the typical nerd. Graduated from Stanford with degrees in math and physics, works as a VP for some huge accounting firm that caters to a bunch of big-name actors and athletes, has a wife and two daughters that run in the LA social circles but there's gossip that he's secretly gay, that's about it."

"Secretly gay?" Steve said, quirking an eyebrow. "I thought it didn't have to be a secret anymore?"

"It doesn't," Tony said quickly. "But in some of the uber-rich circles people still tend to look down on it, and would be… less than enthusiastic about voting for a presidential candidate with an openly gay son. And this dude's wife likes to rub elbows in those circles, and they tend to donate pretty generously to campaign funds, so…"

Steve scowled, his hands clenching into tight fists. "That's ridiculous. So basically they're living a lie just to buy votes?"

"Basically," Tony said gently. He slipped his hands around Steve's waist, ghosting his fingertips just above his waistband. "JARVIS'll find something, honey. We still have about seven weeks before this guy gets inaugurated, so—"

"But we still haven't made much progress with that data from Mongolia, or managed to locate any of the people on that list," Steve said. "And after what George Stacy said to Peter at that dinner, I'm just… it's no wonder he was too upset to notice the peppermint in that cake. I still can't believe how rude Stacy was to him, Tony. It wasn't Peter's fault that the Chitauri killed his partner, but he made it sound like we personally pulled the trigger."

"No, it wasn't Pete's fault, or our fault, and also why Pete hasn't been anywhere near George Stacy since then," Tony said firmly. "But we've had the girl over here twice now and she hasn't been any trouble, so while I think her old man is a prick with a helluva lot of pent-up resentment and envy, from what I've been able to find I don't think he's a direct threat as long as Spider-Man doesn't show his face anywhere in public again."

"Which isn't going to happen," Steve said firmly.

"No, it's not, and Pete knows it," Tony agreed. "Even if he doesn't like it."

"No, he doesn't like it," Steve said with a sigh. "I'm starting to think we shouldn't've let him start training with us. I think it's been giving him false hope."

"Nah, the training at least gives him something to do," Tony said. "And it's also in a controlled setting with people who would all rather die than hurt him, so it's really the best thing for him. He gets to pretend to be a superhero and burn off some steam, and we get a little less grumpy kid."

Steve smiled softly, holding out his hand towards his husband. "A little less grumpy," he murmured as he took Tony into his arms. "I suppose that's better than nothing. And he's sleeping okay now?"

"Gotta take the tiny victories when we can get 'em, honey," Tony said. "And yes, Pete is visually accounted for and out like a light." He slipped his hands underneath Steve's t-shirt, gliding them up his back and causing Steve to shiver. "Now, I finally got Sam's new pack and Clint's new bow up to snuff, and I think I'd like to take a shower. Would you care to join me, _Captain?_"

"I'm pretty sure I could never turn down an invitation like that," Steve answered, smiling as he pecked Tony on the nose. "Especially since the fella doing the asking is as handsome as you."

"Why, Captain," Tony said, feigning innocence. "Are you trying to flatter me?"

"Is it that obvious?"

"Oh hell yeah," Tony said with a smirk. "But that doesn't mean I want you to stop."

Steve dipped his head, kissing Tony firmly on the mouth before taking his hand and leading him into their bathroom, very much aware that Tony was trying to distract him, but also very grateful for it.

Because as he walked past the still-muted television, where President Cole was standing on his stage with his hands held high, basking in the applause from his adoring fans, Steve couldn't help but think of another leader who once stood on stages and basked in the applause of his thousands and eventually millions of followers. A leader who had also preached about nationalism and national pride, and who had promised to end domestic terrorism.

A leader who had then attempted to do just that by first identifying those people whom he considered to be domestic terrorists, simply because they happened to practise a religion that he didn't like.

That leader had been Hitler, and while JARVIS hadn't yet found anything linking President Cole to HYDRA itself or any known individuals involved in the Nazi organisation, Steve had a sinking feeling that it was there, just lying in wait somewhere beneath the many layers of rhetoric.

And the team desperately needed to find it.

* * *

_**I can't wait to see what you think! Please don't hesitate to leave me a review! :)**_


	6. Chapter 6

"All right, guys, let's get started," Liz said, clapping her hands to get the team's attention. It was their first practise back from Christmas break, which meant that the big competition was only about four months away, and Liz would be cracking the whip even harder.

"I'd like to practise giving the unprepared speeches today," Liz continued, earning a chorus of groans from the rest of the team. "Cindy, you'll go first."

Peter watched as Cindy winced, then shuffled over to the podium, looking sheepishly at Liz for her topic.

"Watch it be something really obscure," Peter whispered to Gwen. "Liz likes to think of the weirdest things sometimes."

"Well, I suppose that's not all bad," Gwen whispered back. "She's probably tougher than the judges will be at the actual competition, so if you think about it, our team should be a shoo-in."

"Yeah, you're probably right."

"All right, Cindy," Liz said, shuffling the stack of index cards in her hands. Peter had noticed that she hardly ever went anywhere without those index cards. "Give me three minutes on… the difference between a fastball and a curveball, describing the physics involved."

"Aww, man, I actually know that!" Peter hissed as poor Cindy's eyes went wide and she gulped. "Papa's a huge baseball fan, and he's always telling us stuff like this whenever we go to a game. Dad just listens politely 'cause he doesn't really care all that much, but it's really cool if you think about it. The fastball is pretty self-explanatory, just designed to get there as quickly as possible, so the batter actually has to decide that he's gonna swing almost before the ball even leaves the pitcher's hand, but the curveball—"

"Peter?" Liz interrupted, one hand on her hip as she eyed him pointedly. "You might wanna pay attention here?"

"Ah, yeah," Peter said with a quick nod as he slumped down into his chair, ignoring the goofy look Gwen shot him. "Sorry."

"It is pretty interesting though," Gwen whispered about a minute later, as they watched Cindy give a rather respectable speech on the physics of spinning baseballs and curvatures, which while not exactly answering the question at least used enough big words to hopefully confuse the judges if she were to get a similar topic during the competition.

"What, baseball?" asked Peter.

"Yeah. I kinda like it."

"Mmm. Well, don't say that too loud around my papa, 'cause he'll latch onto it right away," warned Peter. "He and Uncle Bucky love baseball, and they aren't above trying to talk your ear off about it if given the chance."

Gwen smiled that smile that never failed to send warm fuzzies shooting through Peter's body like confetti, and always made him grin like a complete fool right back.

"I'll keep that in mind."

The team worked on the speeches for the entire practise, much to Peter's surprise given Liz's propensity for the rapid-fire questions. His speech on the hidden cons of fabric softener went over quite well with the team and managed to absolutely stump Mr Harrington, as did Gwen's speech on solar power vs wind power and Ned's on the scientific difference between a malt and a milkshake.

"So _that's_ why none of my towels can actually dry anything anymore," Mr Harrington was mumbling under his breath as they all exited the gym once practise was over. "I thought the water at my house had gone funny or something, you should've heard the earful I gave to the water company over Christmas break. Oh boy, did they hear it from me!"

"Wow," Ned said once their teacher was out of earshot. "He really didn't know any of that stuff about fabric softener?"

Peter shrugged. "Most people don't, I s'pose. Not like the people who sell it like to broadcast that it messes up your towels."

"I'm actually surprised that Peter knew about it," Gwen said as she shot Peter a playful wink. "Does your family even do your own laundry?"

"Yeah, we do, actually," Peter protested, grinning as he felt his cheeks turning pink. "Papa does it most of the time, says it's a waste of money to have it sent out when he's perfectly capable of doing it himself. I mean, all their fancy suits get sent out still, but he washes all of our regular everyday stuff, and cleans his own uniforms."

"I've even personally witnessed it," added Ned. "One time when I was staying overnight I spilled pop all the way down my shirt, and Captain Rogers offered to wash it for me. And he didn't even shrink it or anything."

Gwen let out a giggle as they stepped through the doors and onto the parking lot. Peter immediately drew up the sleeve of his jacket, discretely activating the heater in his Spider-Man suit. So far the winter had been a particularly brutal one, and since the school apparently didn't take Peter's rather unique body temperature regulation—or rather, his complete lack thereof—when they set the heaters for their buildings, he had on more than a few occasions had to text Dad or Papa and ask them to bring him an extra hoodie so he didn't freeze to death during the school day. After the third or fourth time, Peter had finally brought up the idea of wearing his Spider-Man suit under his clothes so he could take advantage of the built-in heater. Dad and Papa had of course hemmed and hawed about it but finally decided it was a good idea, just as long as he was very careful to not allow it to be seen.

And so far, aside from one gym class where Peter had forgotten that he had only packed a short-sleeved shirt, and therefore had to dig through the very smelly and gross lost and found for a long-sleeved gym uniform, it had worked out just fine.

There was no sign of Chief Stacy or either of Peter's dads in the parking lot, so the three of them huddled close to the doors to wait for their rides home. They were deep in conversation about the next Lego set Ned was planning to buy when Liz came out, accompanied by her friend Betty Brant, who Peter knew Ned happened to have a crush on.

"Hey guys!" Liz said. "I should've asked you this before you all left, but I'm having a party this Friday night and I was wondering if you wanted to come? It's not gonna be anything too fancy, just the Decathlon team and some other people from my class. There'll be pizza and chips and pop and stuff… anyway. You're all welcome to come if you want."

"Oh, that sounds like fun!" Ned exclaimed. "Are you gonna be there, Betty?"

Betty looked over at Ned like he'd just sneezed on her or something. "Um… yeah. Why?"

"Oh, no reason, just asking," Ned answered, clearing his throat. "Ah, thanks, Liz, for the invitation! I should be able to come."

"Me too," said Gwen. "Sounds like fun!"

"Great!" said Liz. "Peter? You think you'll be able to make it?"

"Aahh," Peter stammered. "I'll have to ask, but I don't think we're doing anything else that night, so probably."

A loud _honk_ from the parking lot caused them all to whip around, finding Liz's mother waving from her Mercedes sedan.

"Oops, I gotta go!" Liz said. "I'll see you guys tomorrow!"

"You think your dads will let you go to the party?" Gwen asked once Liz and Betty had left.

"Only if they have time to do a background check on Liz's parents first," Peter grumbled, rolling his eyes. "And even then—wait a second." He paused, wracking his brain. He knew there was something… "I'm pretty sure that Liz's dad works as one of the salvage contractors for the Department of Damage Control, and if that's the case then it would mean Dad already did a background check on him. So—"

"Then you should be able to?" Gwen said eagerly, sending another rush of warmth across Peter's chest. After the whole peppermint incident Dad and Papa had flat-out refused to allow Peter to go back to Gwen's house, and while they had been able to see each other a couple of times over Christmas break, it was always at the Tower under the watchful eyes of Papa, Dad, and JARVIS, which didn't allow for very many opportunities for much of anything besides some accidental-on-purpose knee touching and elbow rubbing. They had exchanged Christmas presents, with Peter giving Gwen one of the brand-new StarkPens for her tablet and Gwen presenting Peter with an incredible model replica of the original Starship Enterprise, but that had been pretty much it.

All of which meant that Peter hadn't even worked up the courage to kiss her yet. Or even tell her that he really, _really_ wanted to kiss her.

Actually, now that he thought about it, he didn't even know if Gwen considered herself his girlfriend or not, which was probably something that he should clarify before asking her if he could kiss her.

"Hopefully," Peter answered. "I'll still have to ask, but I don't know what excuse they would have for saying no."

"Good," said Gwen, just as Mr Stacy pulled into the parking lot in his police car. She nudged Peter with her elbow, giving him a soft smile. "I guess I'll see you guys tomorrow?"

"Yeah," Peter said as he smiled back at her. "Have a good night."

"So, if you do get to go to the party, would you count that as a date?" Ned asked once the police car had driven away.

"Um… I guess? I dunno, though. What exactly counts as a date?"

"Going to parties together," replied Ned.

Peter curled his shoulders, trying to burrow further down into his jacket as he pulled his hat down to cover his ears. It had to have been zero degrees or colder outside, and with the rapidly setting sun Peter was already starting to shiver. He'd have to ask Dad if they could make the heater in his suit adjustable somehow.

"Then, yeah," he said. "I guess it would. Why?"

"Well, I was just wondering when you were gonna start calling Gwen your girlfriend, since you've already hung out together quite a bit and she seems to like you."

Instinctively, Peter grinned, even as he shook his head. "I don't know, dude. I don't exactly understand all the rules for that stuff yet. Especially since they seem to change a lot, and without warning."

"But you like her?"

"Yeah, man, I do."

"And she likes you?"

"I hope so."

"But neither of you have said that out loud?"

"Well… no, not exactly," Peter replied. "It's not really that simple. Have you told Betty that you like her?"

Ned looked so taken aback that Peter had to stifle a laugh. "No! Are you nuts?"

"Well, then, you know what I mean."

Ned let out a heavy sigh. "All this girl stuff is so frustrating!"

"Yeah."

They were quiet until Peter saw Papa's truck pulling into the parking lot, followed directly by Ned's mother.

"Guess I'll see ya tomorrow," Ned said.

"Uh huh. See ya."

The backseat heater was going full-blast as Peter climbed inside the truck, which Peter was extremely grateful for as he fumbled to put on his seatbelt. Even with his Spider-Man suit, three layers of clothes, and a down jacket pretty much designed for a climb to the top of Mount Everest, he was still cold.

"Don't you think it would be better to wait for us inside, little guy?" Papa asked, glancing worriedly into the rearview mirror. "It's pretty cold outside, and according to the weather it's not going to warm up anytime soon."

"He doesn't want to because all of his friends wait outside, babe," Dad said, glancing up from his tablet. "And we're usually here before he comes out anyway."

"Yeah, where were you guys?" asked Peter. It was rare indeed for them to not be waiting for them.

"Eh, just another stupid problem with Damage Control," Dad grumbled, tapping rather firmly on the tablet. "No big deal, nothing for you to worry about."

"Are we sure it's not a big deal?" asked Papa. "This is what, the third time in a month now?"

"Yeah, and every single time the Iron Legion's been able to take care of things even though we're running twice as many convoys as usual. I really want to get the Triskelion mess done before Congress comes back into session," Dad said. He tipped his head back, removing his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose. "I will be so damn happy once all this junk is over, though. I'm so goddamn sick of all those government assholes."

"Tony," Papa said reproachfully, even as he reached over to pat Dad's knee.

"Mmm. Sorry bud."

"Not like I've never heard it before," Peter mumbled, only loud enough for Papa to hear. Papa raised an eyebrow, but thankfully didn't say anything. He knew probably better than anyone how stressed out Dad was lately, trying to organise the various convoys transporting HYDRA remnants to the SHIELD storage facility in Maryland before Congress returned to the Capitol towards the end of the month. Dad really wanted to be able to tell the Armed Forces Committee that the cleanup in D.C. was complete, leaving only the rest of the New York City mess to deal with.

They were about three blocks from home when Peter spoke up again. "Um, my Decathlon Captain, Liz, invited our team to come to a party at her house this Friday. It's just gonna be food and pop and games and stuff, so do you think I could go?"

Peter watched as Dad and Papa looked at each other, doing the goofy eyebrow-wiggling thing that they often did.

"That the Toomes girl?" Dad asked.

"Yeah, that's her, she's our team Captain," Peter answered. "You've both met her, and I'm pretty sure you've met her mom too, or at least seen her a few times. And her dad's on one of the Damage Control crews in the city."

"Yeah, I recognise the name," said Dad. He glanced over at Papa again. "I guess I'm fine with it."

"All right, then," said Papa. "As long as it's not too late, and there's some adult supervision."

"There's no way Liz's parents would let her have a party without them there," Peter said. "They're almost as strict as you guys."

"Nothing wrong with being careful, Peter," Papa said as he pulled into the parking garage. "Now, I'm sure you're hungry?"

Peter shot him one of his _duh_ looks. "Um… yeah!"

"Well, good, then you can help me make dinner," Papa said with a rather cheeky smile. "How does mac and cheese with some homemade french bread sound?"

"Awesome!" Peter exclaimed, his stomach already rumbling at the prospect. He hadn't yet figured out how Papa managed to take the most basic of dishes and make them taste incredible, but he wasn't about to complain about it. Papa's mac and cheese was almost considered legendary amongst the occupants of Avengers' Tower, and his french bread wasn't too far off either.

"You two go on, one of my convoy foremen has some more questions about the routes for the rest of the week," Dad said with a frown. "I'm gonna have to call him once we get upstairs."

"They really need to get you some more help with that stuff," Papa said as they piled into the penthouse elevator. "It's getting to be too much."

"I'm fine, Steve, just damn frustrated," Dad said shortly. "Besides, I can't really trust anyone else to do it the way I want it done, so…"

"Mmm," muttered Papa. He glanced down at Peter, and Peter responded with a slight shake of the head. This wasn't something for them to get into yet another argument over, especially since Dad had just said the D.C. site was almost done. They'd been bickering enough lately about Dad's heath as it was.

And, as it turned out, both Peter and Dad were right. Dad's phone call with the convoy foreman ended up being quick and easy, Papa's dinner turned out amazing, as usual, and Peter was able to finish all of his homework in time to help Dad out in the lab before bed. They were working on developing a portable repulsor, one that could be launched in groups with the theory that they could be used to help stabilise airplanes experiencing engine failures or other similar issues. Dad had already successfully tested out a prototype at the Compound recently, which managed to keep the Quinjet level enough for a smooth emergency landing after a simulated engine failure, even, as Dad liked to point out, with Uncle Clint at the controls.

And, to top it all off, Dad and Papa even managed to remember to soundproof their bedroom after they tucked him in later that night, something that Peter was _extremely_ grateful for, as it never failed to embarrass him when he had to ask JARVIS to do it himself. He supposed he should be grateful that his parents obviously loved each other very much, as he knew that wasn't always the case, but he really, _really_ didn't want to have to _hear _it.

Or, at least not practically every single night. It was almost like they'd still just gotten married or something with the way they were with each other. Even Ned and Gwen had pointed it out after watching the two of them interact, and that had been tamed down considerably.

"JARVIS?" Peter asked as he rolled over, clutching his polar bear to his chest.

"Yes, Master Peter?"

"Can you remind me to ask Dad about the heater in my Spider-Man suit? If the weather's gonna be this cold I need to make it more adjustable."

"Reminder noted, Master Peter, set for tomorrow afternoon upon your return from school."

"Thanks."

"You are most welcome."

Peter thought for a moment, contemplating if it was worth asking his next question. "JARVIS?"

"Yes, Master Peter?"

"Um… you've seen Gwen when she's been here, right?"

"I have been aware of Miss Stacy's presence in the penthouse on a few occasions, yes."

"Okay, so… do you think she likes me? Like, like-like's me?"

A short pause followed Peter's question, where Peter could've sworn he could imagine JARVIS's eyebrows knitting together, if in fact the UI actually had eyebrows.

"I am afraid I am unfamiliar with the phrase, 'like-like', Master Peter. Could you perhaps be more specific?"

"Uhh, it means more than just a friend," he replied sheepishly, turning his face into his pillow. "Kinda like how Dad and Papa like each other, only not quite so… intense."

"If that is in fact the definition of 'like-like', then I would absolutely agree that Mr Stark and Captain Rogers do indeed 'like-like' each other. However, I do believe that you and Miss Stacy are a bit young for… that type of relationship, and I also believe that Mr Stark and Captain Rogers would agree with my assessment."

"Yeah, yeah, nevermind," Peter mumbled into his pillow, sorry that he'd brought it up in the first place. "Could you turn on the rain sounds, please?"

"Of course, Master Peter," JARVIS said, filling Peter's vast bedroom with the soothing sound of gently falling rain. "Is there anything else that you require?"

"No thanks, JARVIS. Goodnight."

"Goodnight to you, Master Peter."

* * *

Tony let out a contented sigh as Steve settled into the bed next to him, draping his heavy arm across Tony's chest and yanking him closer until there was absolutely no space at all between them. It was quite a bit earlier than they usually went to bed, as Tony was often working in the lab until at least midnight while Steve watched the news and worked on their training and mission plans, but Tony had to admit that he was rather exhausted after dealing with Damage Control all damn day after working through the night the night before, and Steve… well… Steve still wasn't sleeping all that great, so any extra that he could get was definitely a good thing.

"Mmm," Steve mumbled as he buried his nose into Tony's hair, inhaling deeply. "You smell good."

"You've always liked that shampoo, babe," Tony replied. "And I should hope so, as pricey as it is."

Tony felt Steve shake his head. "No, it's not just the shampoo," he murmured. "It's just… _you_. Even when you're all sweaty and covered in grease from working on one of the cars or something, you still smell amazing."

"Really?" Tony asked, wrinkling his nose. Even after over three years together, he still wasn't quite used to the compliments that Steve showered him with on a daily basis. He had quite a bit of experience with flattery, both somewhat sincere and some not-so-much, especially during his playboy days before Peter came along, but he'd never really experienced much in the way of being complimented.

At least, not until Steve.

"Really," Steve answered as he pressed a kiss to Tony's scalp. "It's one of the first things I noticed about you."

"Hmm. Well, maybe it's a pheromone thing or something." He trailed his fingertips down the length of Steve's arm, lacing their fingers together and chucking as he did so. Steve's tendency towards being extra sappy was apparently starting to rub off on him. "Now, I thought you were tired?"

"I am." Steve's arm tightened even more, his lips brushing along Tony's temple and neck. "I'm also feeling very relaxed and satisfied at the moment."

"At the moment, huh?" Tony said with a grin. He wiggled his ass up against Steve, smirking when a low growl rumbled up from Steve's chest. "Well, just give it a few more and we'll see how you're doing then."

Steve propped himself up on his elbow and gently turned Tony's face towards him, the lustful gleam in his blue eyes apparent even in the dim light of their bedroom. "Is that an invitation?"

A sharp bolt of pleasure shot down the length of Tony's body, from the top of his head down to the very tips of his toes. They had just gotten cleaned up after making love not even ten minutes ago, and yet here was Steve, looking at Tony as though he had personally hung the moon, and ready to go all over again.

He had to admit that it was addictive, being desired that much. And the fact that it was Steve Rogers, a person who Tony had always said that he hated but now couldn't imagine trying to live without, somehow made it all that much more erotic.

"Well, I don't know, _Captain,_" Tony said, rather cheekily. "You think you're up to the challenge?"

Instead of answering, Steve rolled on top of Tony, carefully straddling him before grinding his hips down.

"So I take it that's a yes?" Tony said, gasping when Steve rolled his hips again. He was obviously _very_ up to the challenge.

"I don't know, mo grá," Steve murmured as he started trailing kisses along Tony's cheek and jaw. "You're the genius, you tell me."

"God, you're insatiable," Tony breathed, slipping his hands under the waistband of Steve's loose pyjama pants to grip his deliciously firm ass. "How'd I get so damn lucky?"

"I do very much apologise for the very untimely interruption, sir," JARVIS suddenly cut in. "But there is a new memo coming in from the Department of Damage Control, and it is marked with extreme urgency."

"You have _got_ to be fucking kidding me!" Tony exclaimed as Steve let out a pained groan into Tony's neck.

"I'm sure JARVIS wouldn't bother us if it wasn't really important, sweetheart," Steve said as he pushed himself up to his knees, reaching for Tony's tablet resting on the bedside table.

"You are quite correct, Captain," replied JARVIS. "At the risk of sounding presumptuous, I believe I know better than to interrupt during your… private times unless it was absolutely necessary."

"Yeah, yeah," Tony mumbled, rolling his eyes as he shoved his glasses onto his face. "What the hell do they want now?"

He tapped open the memo, scanning through several pages of the usual obtuse government jargon for anything of actual importance. What was it with these government types that they always had to make everything sound so complicated?

"Ah, Christ," Tony muttered a moment later. "There's always gotta be something."

"What? What's it say?" Steve asked.

Tony huffed out a sharp breath, highlighting the relevant statements and handing the tablet to Steve, who quickly read it over.

"Someone thinks there's too much space in the storage facility?" he asked. "How'd they figure that?"

"Apparently someone's aide got a little number-crunching happy and decided to calculate how many square metres are left in the facility versus how many square metres we've supposedly transported there, and for some reason they aren't adding up."

Steve's eyebrows knitted together. "So… you're saying some of the wreckage is missing?"

"Yep, pretty much."

"But… _how?"_ demanded Steve.

"It wouldn't be the first time the government has misplaced something important. They lost you for over sixty years, didn't they?"

Steve visibly flinched, and Tony immediately reached for his hand, bringing it to his lips. "Sorry, honey. I shouldn't've said that."

"No, it's okay. I just… don't get how this would be possible? You've told me that none of the attempted convoy robberies were actually successful, right?"

"That's right," answered Tony. "The Iron Legion has managed to thwart 'em every single time."

"Then it would have to be someone from the inside," said Steve. "Someone working for Damage Control."

"Yeah, I don't see how it could be anyone else," agreed Tony. He scrubbed his palm down his face, slumping back into his pillows. "Which probably means that I'm gonna have to put a halt on the damn convoys until I can re-vet all the personnel, which means—"

"Which means that the Triskelion mess won't be done by the time Congress is back in session," Steve finished.

"Exactly."

Steve bit his bottom lip, his worry wrinkle on full display. "How can I help, sweetheart? Do you want me to call the team? We can get started on the vetting process, and—"

"I wish you could, honey," Tony cut in. "But since Damage Control is a government operation and you're not an official part of it, the Armed Forces Committee probably wouldn't accept the help even if they wanted to."

"That's ridiculous," Steve said with a frown.

"Agreed. And you pretty much just summed up most of our government in a single word. If not all of it."

"Hmph," muttered Steve. He slumped down next to Tony, obviously pondering something by the way his eyebrows were twitching.

"That party that Peter was invited to today. Didn't you say the girl's father works for Damage Control?"

"Ah, yeah," answered Tony. "The Toomes girl, her old man is one of our salvage contractors." He paused as he took note of Steve's shaking lower lip and twitching fingers, both signs of his anxiety starting to take hold. "You're not thinking that she invited Pete to the party because her dad's been stealing from Damage Control, are you? 'Cause even if he is, that'd be a pretty gutsy move."

"But not one that we can rule out, I don't think," Steve said worriedly, his face pale and his voice about three octaves higher than usual. "Tony, we can't let him go to that party!"

"Just… hold on for a second, babe, okay?" Tony said gently. He set down the tablet and reached for Steve's hand, pressing it to his chest over his heart. "You know that I'm not dismissing what you're saying here, and I'm absolutely gonna put Toomes first on my list for re-checking, but you also know that Pete's gonna completely revolt if we don't let him just be a normal kid from time to time, and that's only gonna make things all that much worse."

"But, _Tony!"_ Steve pleaded, rapidly gulping air. "What if—?"

"_If_ Toomes is up to something funky, then we'll find it out _before _the party and then talk to Pete, okay? And if he's not, well, then Pete should be fine—"

"_Should_ be? Tony, that's not good enough for me!"

"_Will _be," Tony said rapidly. "He _will _be fine. We'll drop him off at the party and then we can go sit at a Starbucks or something and wait till it's time to pick him up."

"Tony—!"

"Honey, we can't just lock him in his room all the time!" Tony said, firmly but gently. "As much as I wish we could. But he's fifteen now, and finally he has some decent friends that he wants to spend time with and who want to spend time with him. And this girl, Liz, she's just as big of a nerd as Pete, so I'm guessing they're all just gonna be sitting around eating pizza and playing Trivial Pursuit or something. Not exactly what I would call a wild party."

Steve's shoulders sagged, his chin dropping to his chest. "Tony, I don't know."

"C'mere," Tony murmured as he reached for his worried husband, curling his arms around Steve's trembling shoulders and pulling him close. Steve's breaths were coming in short, shallow gasps, and his heart was thundering in his chest like a galloping racehorse.

"Pete's got that sixth sense of his too, right? The… Spidey Sense?"

"Yeah?"

"Well, he was able to use that to warn us about Rumlow way back when, and the Winter Soldier, and Obie right before he broke into the Tower, so I'm thinking that if he senses something weird about Toomes, it'll go off again and he'll tell us. Like he's always done."

Steve was quiet for several heartbeats, his long fingers wrapped tightly around Tony's arm, clinging to him as if he was afraid he was going to drown if he let go. Tony brushed his lips across Steve's forehead and temples, murmuring soothing words as he waited for Steve to calm down. He had learned through trial and error that trying to rush Steve through one of his anxiety attacks was the absolute worst thing he could do.

"You said we could wait somewhere nearby, once we drop him off?" Steve finally said, sounding very much like a little boy instead of the over six-feet tall, strong, strapping man that he was.

"Absolutely," said Tony. "At most we'll be ten minutes away, and if it helps, I'll even stow one of my suits in the trunk."

"Yes," Steve murmured into Tony's chest. "It would help."

"Then it's done." Tony threaded his fingers into Steve's hair, kissing the top of his head. "Not a problem."

"Okay. But what're we gonna do about the wreckage that's supposedly missing?"

"_We're_ not going to do anything about it," Tony answered. "What _I'm _gonna do is fire off a quick response telling them that I've already started the re-vetting process, and then take another look at these numbers in the morning. And if it turns out that stuff has actually gone missing, then I suppose I'll have to see how the Armed Forces Committee wants to go about looking for it."

Steve huffed, his grip tightening on Tony's arm. "I don't like it, Tony. If someone's managed to get their hands on those HYDRA artefacts, there'd be nothing from stopping them from turning them into weapons, or—or something even worse, and—"

"I know, honey," Tony said, as patiently as he could muster. He was actually a lot more rattled by the possibility of unauthorised people getting their hands on HYDRA tech than he was letting on, but Steve was anxious enough for the both of them at the moment and he really didn't feel like adding to it.

"C'mon, babe," he added, pressing another kiss to Steve's forehead. "Let's just try and go to sleep, yeah? Nothing we can do about anything now."

Steve tilted his head, looking up at him with pleading blue eyes that were already starting to darken. "I'm not ready to go to sleep yet," he said as he slid his hand up Tony's bare arm to his neck, tugging him closer so he could kiss him. Tony whimpered as Steve deepened the kiss, shifting them so Tony was once again lying underneath him. He should've known that Steve would need more help calming down that just a few chaste kisses and murmured words.

"Okay, honey, okay," Tony murmured as Steve kissed down to his neck, latching onto his pulse point as his hand slipped under Tony's ass, pressing their hips together. "I've got you, babe. I've got you."

"Need you," Steve whispered, sliding his hand underneath Tony's waistband. "Please."

Tony quickly kicked off his pyjama pants and tapped Steve on the shoulder, indicating for him to lie back. He then slid Steve's pyjamas down his legs and climbed on top of him, his eyes fluttering closed when Steve grabbed onto his hips and rocked up against him.

"_Steve,"_ Tony gasped as he brought Steve's left palm to his chest, splaying it across the kaleidoscope of scars covering his heart. "It's okay, baby. I'm right here."

"You're here," Steve murmured as his movements grew more frenetic, more frantic, the grip on Tony's hip tightening. "I can feel your heart beating."

"Yes, baby," Tony whispered as Steve suddenly sat up, his free hand slipping between them to grip their erections. Tony cried out as pleasure shot through his body like an arrow, forcing himself to open his eyes so he could watch his beautiful husband's face as Steve threw his head back with a loud groan.

"That's it, gorgeous. Don't hold back, I'm right here."

They came within seconds of each other, as they usually did, with Tony's arms wrapped around Steve's shoulders and Steve's face buried in Tony's neck. They remained there clinging to each other for several minutes, exchanging soft kisses and caresses until Steve was finally able to stop trembling.

"I've got you, honey," Tony murmured, over and over as he stroked Steve's hair. "I love you. We're gonna be okay."

He felt Steve shudder against him as he drew in a deep, shaky breath.

"You promise?"

"Yeah, honey, I do," Tony said as he brushed a soft kiss across Steve's forehead. "'Cause we're in this together, right? Whatever it takes."

Steve gulped as he nodded. "Together. Whatever it takes."

But as Tony held Steve in his arms later that night, unable to calm his racing mind enough to fall asleep, he couldn't help but think about what 'whatever it takes', was going to end up taking from them next.

* * *

"All right, here we are," Dad said as he pulled into the driveway at what JARVIS had indicated was Liz's address. He frowned as he scanned the large, sprawling house with floor-to-ceiling windows across nearly the entire front, through which Peter could see the brightly flashing lights from the DJ station. Peter had always guessed that Liz's family was on the wealthier side based on her clothes and the car her mom drove, but he hadn't thought that she was quite this wealthy.

_How much does Damage Control pay their salvage contractors?_

"Wow, Liz's house is nice!" Ned exclaimed from next to Peter, his jaw dropping in awe. "No wonder she likes to have parties!"

"We're gonna be back here at midnight sharp, okay boys?" Papa said as he turned to face Peter. "Not a minute later. And Peter, if you happen to sense anything weird, anything at all, don't wait to call us. All right?"

"I know, Papa," Peter said, just barely able to suppress an eyeroll. Papa had already told him that about a million times. "Ned and I will be waiting for you, just like we talked about."

"Oh, don't worry, Captain Rogers," Ned said eagerly. "I'll make sure Peter's out here waiting with me, just in case he forgets or something."

"Gee, thanks," Peter muttered.

"Well, as long as one of you grabs the other, you should be fine," Dad said. "But we mean it. Midnight sharp, not a second later, this very spot."

"Dad…"

"Yes, sir," said Ned. "We got it."

"And you're sure that your friend's mother is home?" Papa asked.

"Yes, Papa," Peter said with a sigh. "Liz told me at practise today that both of her parents would be here the whole time. There's nothing to worry about."

"All right, then," said Dad. "Go on and have some fun. Or, at least as much fun as you can have in a house filled with geeks eating pizza and drinking Dr Pepper." He glanced over at Ned, eyeing the hat he was wearing. "Nice hat by the way, Mr Leeds. Looks very… distinguished."

"Oh, thank you, Mr Stark!" Ned said with a wide smile, adjusting the brown fedora perched on his round head as he and Peter climbed out of the car. "It gives me confidence!"

"Well, we can never have too much of that!" Dad called through his window. "Midnight sharp, boys!"

"Yeah, yeah," muttered Peter as Dad backed out of the driveway and drove away, wondering how in the world he was going to be able to deal with an extra-anxious Papa for the next four hours.

Then again, Dad was the best at dealing with an anxious Papa. It still amazed Peter that Papa could be just on the verge of one of his super-overprotective fits, but yet just a couple of touches and some soft words from Dad and he'd be almost back to normal again. It really was incredible to witness, even if it was kinda sad at the same time.

Peter's heart started to thud as he and Ned approached the house, the pulsating beat of the DJ music loud enough to rattle the windows. He knew Gwen was already inside since she had texted him while they were en route, and he was very much looking forward to seeing her. This was the first time that they'd been able to get together outside of school or the watchful eyes of their parents, and Peter was both very excited and really, really nervous. So nervous that it had taken him almost an hour to decide on what to wear, and then at least another thirty minutes to wrangle his curls into something that he considered more respectable than just having them hang in front of his forehead.

"What did your papa mean about sensing something weird?" Ned asked as they approached the door. "I've never heard him say that to you before."

"Oh, Papa's always talking about minding our surroundings," Peter said, trying to sound nonchalant. "Says it can help you avoid getting into fights, that's all. Pretty sure it's a military thing."

"Oh. Well, I s'pose that's a good thing," said Ned as they arrived at the front door. "So, do you think we're supposed to ring the doorbell, or just go inside?"

Peter shrugged. "I guess just go inside? It's not like anyone could hear the doorbell anyway over all the music."

"Okay, so… open the door then."

"Um…" Peter stammered, gulping. "Why don't you open it?"

"You're the one whose girlfriend is in there," insisted Ned. "So you should open it!"

"She's not my girlfriend!"

Ned quirked an eyebrow. "Yeah, she is, Peter. I've never seen her cheeks turn that pinky colour when she hangs around anyone else, so yeah, she is!"

"I'm pretty sure that's not at all how it's supposed to work, Ned," Peter said through clenched teeth. "But can we go inside now? It's cold out here!"

"Fine! Then open the door!"

Peter shot Ned a sharp glare, gripping the brass doorknob with his nearly frozen fingers. "Fine!"

To Peter's relief, the door swung open easily. As he and Ned stepped over the threshold, Peter fought against the urge to cover his ears against the blare of the music, kicking himself for not remembering his earplugs.

"Hey, guys!" Liz said as she slid into view from a nearby hallway, a red Solo cup in one hand. "I'm so glad you came!"

"Hey, Liz!" Ned replied with a wave. "You have a really nice house!"

"Thanks," Liz answered. She jerked her head towards a rather grand staircase that led to the second floor, the bottom three steps covered in a massive pile of coats and jackets. "Um, you guys can put your jackets there, and there's pizza and drinks in the kitchen. Most of the team is in there, so…"

"Great!" Ned said, his smile so wide that Peter was surprised his face hadn't split open. "You hungry, Peter?"

"Always," Peter said, tossing his jacket onto the pile and hoping that the kitchen was far away from the music. _Why the hell didn't I bring my earplugs?_

Thankfully, the kitchen was in the far back of the house, and the dulled-down noise combined with the sight of Gwen looking absolutely amazing was enough to instantly perk up Peter's spirits. The fact that her pretty face lit up as soon as he stepped into the room didn't hurt at all either.

"Hey guys!" she said. "You made it!"

"Yeah, Peter couldn't decide what to wear," Ned said, his jaw dropping slightly as he caught sight of Betty standing with some of their Decathlon friends. "I finally had to threaten to come without him if he didn't hurry up."

Gwen raised her eyebrows, nodding. "Okay. Well—"

"Don't listen to anything he says," Peter cut in. "Ned was actually late getting dropped off at the Tower because _he _couldn't decide what to wear."

"I see," answered Gwen. "Well, most of the girls are talking about how hot the Avengers are, so I'm sure they're gonna be interested to hear your opinion."

Peter instinctively wrinkled his nose. "I don't really have an opinion on how hot my parents are, or any of the rest of them. They're just my parents."

"Just my parents," Ned said, shooting Gwen a knowing look. "Geez. Must be nice. Hi, I'm Peter, and my parents are Iron Man and Captain America, but to me they're just my dads who make me clean my room and take out the trash."

"Um… yeah?" Peter said with a grimace. "That's pretty much how it is."

Ned shook his head, patting Peter's shoulder. "See, that's exactly it, Peter. You just don't get it."

Peter stared at him for a moment, finally glancing over at Gwen, who gave a slight shrug. "Um… how 'bout we get some pizza?"

"Good idea," said Ned, and immediately made a beeline for the pizza boxes lining the long countertop.

The pizza was delicious, hot and gooey and covered in toppings, and once Peter had finished his third slice and downed his second cup of Dr Pepper, he was even able to smile as the girls continued their gushing over Thor and Captain America.

"I mean, have you seen those arms of his?" Betty said. "Especially when he swings his hammer and the lightning comes out? I mean, they're like, _huge!_"

"Oh, I _know!_" said Cindy. "And his hair, and that accent? Who could resist an accent like that!"

"Oh, but Captain America has such dreamy eyes!" piped up another girl, one of Cindy's friends. "And that dimple when he smiles? I mean, God! Iron Man is so lucky, it's really not fair!"

"Well, it's not like Iron Man's hard to look at either," Cindy added. "That goatee of his must take him hours to get that perfect. Peter? Do you ever get to watch him when he shaves?"

"Huh?" Peter said. "Um… no, I don't usually watch my dad while he shaves. Sorry."

"That's probably 'cause you won't need to start shaving till you're thirty," Flash Thompson said as he came up behind Peter, slapping him hard on his backside. "Little baby-faced Prince Peter probably doesn't even know how to grow facial hair yet."

"Very funny, Flash," Gwen said, scowling at the older boy. "Besides, there's nothing wrong with looking young, as I'm sure Captain America would agree."

Flash gave a shrug as he bit into a slice of pizza. "Yeah, well, he kinda had an unfair advantage, I think. I'm sure if I got frozen for over sixty years that I'd still look the same too."

"It's not unfair," Peter muttered, so softly that he was surprised that Flash even heard him. Flash blinked, chewing another mouthful of pizza as he leaned closer.

"What was that, Prince Peter? I didn't quite hear you?"

Peter breathed in slowly, his hands clenching into tight fists at his sides. _If you only knew… _

"I said, it's not unfair," Peter repeated. "Papa didn't ask to be frozen like he was. He thought he was gonna die when he crashed that plane." _And he still has the nightmares to prove it._

"Well, anyway," Betty said after a rather awkward pause. "Anyone up for a game of Clue?"

"Oh, that sounds awesome!" Ned exclaimed, with so much enthusiasm that Betty jerked backwards. "I love Clue!"

"O-kay," she said slowly. "Pretty sure the games are set up in the dining room so…"

"That sounds like fun," Gwen said. "Peter? You like Clue, don't you?"

"Oh, yeah," Peter said as he gulped down the rest of his Dr Pepper. "My Uncle James and I play it together whenever he's in town."

"Is that the Colonel Uncle James, or the Uncle Bucky, Uncle James?" Gwen asked as they headed into the dining room, which was unfortunately right next to the living room where the music was still going full-blast.

"Uh, the Colonel Uncle James," Peter said, cringing as the song changed to one with a particularly strong bass beat. He gritted his teeth, forcing himself to try and ignore it as Ned got the game board set up.

"You—you look really pretty tonight," Peter whispered to Gwen as Ned's guess of Colonel Mustard in the parlor with the candlestick was quickly shot down by Betty. She was wearing a bright blue sweater that complimented her blonde hair and green eyes beautifully.

"Thanks," Gwen whispered back. "You look nice too. The plaid really compliments you."

Almost immediately Peter felt his cheeks blushing pink, and he let out a soft cough as he nodded. "Thanks," he said. "Papa… he's a big fan of plaid, my dad really likes it on him so he wears it a lot, and since he's the one who usually takes me shopping, he thought it'd be nice, so—"

"Oh, it is!" interrupted Gwen. "Nice, that is. Your papa was right, it looks—it looks good."

"Thanks."

They continued playing, with Gwen taking the first round by correctly guessing Miss Scarlett in the study with the knife, and Peter taking the second round with Mrs Peacock in the library with the rope. They were just resetting the board to start again when Flash came over, plunking himself down directly between Peter and Gwen, one of the red Solo cups in his hand.

"I'm surprised your dads actually let you come here tonight, Prince Peter," Flash said before taking a big sip of his drink. "Don't they usually keep you locked in your room when you're not in school?"

"Oh, shut up, Flash," Ned snapped before Peter could respond. "And what are you even doing here? Aren't you supposed to be spinning tunes?"

"Nah, I've got the next five songs already queued up, so I thought I'd come over and see how the commoners were doing," said Flash.

"Oh, like we're the commoners," Ned said. "You do know that Peter's dad could literally buy your dad's entire company and turn it into a ping-pong hall or something, right?"

"Yeah, well at least my dad doesn't hide me away every time he goes out of town," retorted Flash. "I mean, exactly how much school did you miss last year, little prince? Wasn't it like four months? That's almost half of the school year, and yet you still somehow managed to advance with the rest of the class. So… what. Did your dad have to bribe Principal Morita to let you continue on so you wouldn't be embarrassed or something?"

Peter's belly gave a hard swoop, and he squeezed his eyes closed, trying to take the deep, even breaths that Uncle Sam had taught him. It had been a few weeks since he'd been forced to recall _that_ mission, but it still hit him like a sledgehammer to the chest, forcing all the breath from his lungs. He still didn't remember much from his time in the bunker or from his coma that followed, only that he'd never been in so much pain in his entire life, or so incredibly exhausted that he felt like he could sleep for a hundred years.

And the nearly overwhelming confusion he'd had once he finally woke up.

_So much pain… I'm burning… burning from the inside out… it hurts so bad!_

_My name is Peter Stark-Rogers. My dad is Tony Stark. My papa is Steve Rogers. I live in Avengers Tower. Please, just leave me alone._

_I am Spider-Man._

_Help me, Papa. I'm so tired, I just wanna sleep!_

"Stop it, Flash!" Gwen said, her green eyes bright with anger even as she glanced worriedly at Peter. "You're just being mean! You know Peter didn't have a choice to go to that safehouse last year, so why don't you just shut up about things that you don't understand!"

But Flash only smirked, shooting Peter a rather maniacal grin as he took another sip from his cup, which Peter now realised probably had been spiked with something.

"Oh, and now you need your girl to stand up for you, little prince?" sneered Flash. "Didn't your papa teach you how to stand up for yourself?"

"I need some air," Peter suddenly said, standing to his feet so fast that he jiggled the coffee table housing the game, causing it to scrape across the wood floor and send an eerie shiver down his spine. Peter shivered again as his arms pebbled with goosebumps, and he wrapped his arms around his front, glancing down at Gwen and hoping she'd understand. "I'm okay, I'll—I'll just be back in a bit."

He thought he heard Gwen calling his name as he hurried back to the kitchen, searching for a back door that would hopefully lead outside. He knew it was freezing out, and that his jacket was likely buried under about thirty others somewhere in the front of the house, but all he cared about in that moment was getting away. Away from the booming music, away from Flash.

Away from memory fragments that still haunted his dreams, and had transformed his papa from Captain America into a fragile, frightened shell of his former self.

He had just managed to find a hallway that appeared to lead towards the garage when he heard a rather gruff male voice coming from the slightly open door of a nearby room. Peter decided that it was likely Liz's father's office or something, and was just about to continue on his way when he suddenly heard the man mention his name.

Or rather, he heard him mention the name Stark, and more specifically, "That Stark bastard's goddamn flying suits."

"Huh?" Peter whispered as he turned on his heel, leaning closer to the cracked door. He felt a small pang of guilt for eavesdropping, but if the guy really was talking about his father, then was it still technically eavesdropping?

"Yeah, and I told you that it's not gonna happen!" the man continued. "Those goddamn flying suits of his are making it impossible to get anything!"

"He must be talking about the Iron Legion," Peter murmured. "And if that's the case, then—"

"No, no, I've already done too much that way, and they're gonna start suspecting it soon if they haven't already. Stark may be an asshole, but he's not stupid. We're just gonna have to figure out something else."

"Hey, don't call my dad an asshole," grumbled Peter. "And what aren't you wanting him to suspect?"

"Yeah, yeah, I got some stuff set to move in about twenty minutes 'bout a half a kilometre from here. Don't worry, I said I'd get it moved and I'm gonna get it moved. But now all the convoys are at a halt because someone got a little too interested in the numbers, so until they start moving again, there's not really much I can do. We just gotta wait it out. Shouldn't be too long, though, Stark's too damn impatient for the delay to last too long."

"Oh my God!" Peter hissed, immediately clapping his hand over his mouth. "Liz's dad is one of the people trying to steal from Damage Control!"

"Look, I know you can't stand the guy, but you gotta admit that the stuff he put out was always way better 'n yours. I mean, the military didn't even give you the time of day until he pulled out of the weapons business, so—no—no—that's not what I meant, just—yeah, yeah. Don't worry, I said I'll get it done, which means it'll get done. Yeah, yeah, I'll let you know."

The sound of footsteps heading towards the door caused Peter to jump back. He was just about at the end of the hallway when the man stepped out of the room and squinted in Peter's direction, his arms laden with colour-coded files. Almost immediately Peter felt the ice-cold shiver race down his spine that he'd come to recognise as his Spider Sense, which either meant that it wasn't working correctly, which had never happened, or that Mr Toomes was a criminal.

And apparently, a criminal who was helping to steal stuff from Damage Control, both from the inside and by attacking the convoys.

"Kid?" Mr Toomes said, tilting his head. "You lost or something?"

"Uhh, yeah," Peter stammered, his heart in his throat. "I'm—I was just looking… for the bathroom, and… yeah, I guess I got a bit lost."

"Mmm," said Mr Toomes. "Well, the bathroom's that way, down the opposite hall."

Mr Toomes stepped closer then, his beady eyes narrowing as they swept over Peter, sending another freezing bolt down his back.

"You're the Stark boy, aren't ya?" he asked.

"Yeah—yes, sir." Peter held out his hand, biting his lip to keep from cringing when Mr Toomes took it. "I'm Peter. Peter Stark-Rogers, and I'm on the Decathlon team with Liz."

"Yeah, I'm sure Liz's mentioned you once or twice," Mr Toomes said. He shifted his arm carrying the files, causing the top file to open slightly. "Well, if you don't mind, I've got some stuff to do upstairs, so…"

"Oh, yeah, sure," Peter said as he stepped back, allowing Mr Toomes to walk past him. He chanced a sneaky glance down at the files as he passed, but other than the top page appearing to be some kind of order manifest, the hallway was too dim for him to catch anything else.

As soon as Mr Toomes was out of earshot, Peter raked his hands through his hair, trying to make some sense of what he'd just overheard.

_Liz's dad works for Damage Control, but he's also helping people steal from Damage Control, both from the inside and by attacking the convoys, and he's apparently doing it for someone who hates Dad 'cause he's jealous of him or something._

Which, if Peter was honest, didn't really narrow things down all that much. Dad had made more than a few enemies during the years that he was making weapons, and they probably didn't just disappear once he stopped.

But aside from that, there was apparently something going down that night, and not too far from where Peter was at that very moment.

And the way Peter saw it, he could either call his dads and have them call in the team to stop Mr Toomes and whatever he was planning and turn it all into a huge production, or he could take care of them himself and finally prove to his dads that he no longer needed their constant hovering and supervision, and that he was worthy of being a superhero in his own right.

And, if Peter was able to take care of this on his own, maybe it would help Papa and Dad be just a little less anxious about everything.

Even if it meant ditching the rest of the party. And Gwen.

Peter contemplated for about three more seconds before pulling out his phone. "JARVIS?"

"Yes, Master Peter?"

"Um… could you please text Gwen in about ten minutes and tell her that I'm really sorry, but that my dads called and I had to leave early? And also arrange for Betty to give Ned a ride home? I'm pretty sure that she drove here herself, so it should be okay."

"I see," said JARVIS. "And may I inquire as to the purpose of this deception?"

"No, you may not," Peter said firmly. "Override code Hufflepuff2."

"Very well, Master Peter. May I at least inquire as to what you are doing?"

"I'm sure you'll figure it out soon enough," Peter muttered as he headed down the hallway, already tugging his shirt and undershirt over his head to reveal his Spider-Man suit. As soon as he stepped outside he hid his clothes behind the a/c unit and reached behind his neck, unfolding his mask and pulling it on. After losing at least three of his masks over the summer, Dad had finally decided to just sew the thing onto the back of his suit, which offered a bit of extra padding around his neck when it wasn't in use.

"Okay, Mr Toomes said whatever was happening was happening about a half a kilometre from here," he said as he looked up, cursing the lack of skyscrapers to swing on. Apparently no buildings taller than two stories were allowed in that particular suburb, so he was just going to have to run there. "JARVIS, can you give me the most likely location around here for something illegal to be happening? Radius is about half a kilometre."

A second later his phone beeped with the probable location, an area not too far from an abandoned playground, close to a lake.

"I do advise extreme caution, Master Peter," said JARVIS. "You are venturing into an unknown situation."

"Yeah, I know," Peter said as he finally found a tree tall enough to launch one of his webs, smiling under the mask at the awesome _thwipping _noise that it made. Swinging around on his webs had never failed to thrill him.

A few minutes later Peter arrived at an overpass overlooking an alley where an old, beat-up van was parked with its back doors hanging open, a series of what looked like very hi-tech rifles and guns on display. Three men stood by the van, all talking too quietly for Peter to hear, but who appeared to be waiting for a potential buyer to show up. Peter quickly snapped a few pictures of the men to analyse later, then securely tucked his phone and continued to wait, tapping his fingers impatiently against his leg. Waiting had never been one of his strong suits.

Thankfully, he didn't have to wait long, as it was only a couple of minutes later that another man stepped out from a nearby clump of bushes and approached the van. Peter watched as he and the sellers examined the various weapons, discussing firepower and pricing, until one of the sellers picked up a handgun and fired it right over the top of the overpass, not too far from where Peter was sitting. Peter jumped up at the booming sound, which reminded him of one of Dad's repulsors times about a million, immediately firing a web towards the weapon and yanking it right out of the man's hand.

"Didn't anyone ever tell you guys that guns are dangerous?" Peter called as he swung down to the van, running straight for the weapons when one of the guys pulled back his arm, which Peter noticed about a second too late was covered in a long, silver-coloured gauntlet that looked like a very crude version of one of Dad's gauntlets. The man's metal fist connected directly with Peter's midsection, launching him backwards at least ten metres. He landed flat on his back, briefly knocking the wind from him as the men jumped into the van and started to drive off.

"No, no, no!" Peter cried, launching his web at the swinging van doors and holding on tight as it picked up speed, showering Peter with dirt and rocks. "This isn't how it was supposed to happen!"

The van rounded a corner, sending Peter flying into a couple of loaded trash bins and bouncing off of a huge brick mailbox as one of the doors opened to reveal Gauntlet Man, aiming one of the nearly metre-long rifles right at him. Fighting against his rising panic, Peter peeled his freezing right hand from his web rope and shot another, catching it onto the rifle and yanking it right out of Gauntlet Man's hands.

"That's one!" he said as the van rounded another corner, with Peter just managing to avoid crashing into another mailbox. He launched another web at a passing lamppost in an effort to slow the van down, but the lamppost only bent under the combined force of the web and the van, and slammed down onto the street.

"Oh God, what the hell was I thinking?" Peter cried as Gauntlet Man reappeared with another rifle, firing a shot that came so close Peter felt the heat from the blast go past his ear. Before he could react Gauntlet Man fired another shot, this time severing the web attached to the van. Rolling and bouncing, Peter finally skidded to a halt, his entire body stinging and aching from bodysurfing on asphalt for the last three minutes.

"Okay, um…" Peter gasped. He quickly scanned the area for a shortcut and took off running, hoping to cut the van off in the next neighbourhood.

"Man, I am so glad that we don't live in the suburbs!" Peter said as he slammed through a wooden fence. "This really sucks!"

But it was only about three seconds later when Peter felt the ice bolt race down his back again, just before an ear-splitting noise caused him to whip around. Peter stumbled as what could only be described as some kind of huge, flying metal demon swooped down from the sky and latched onto him with its claws, carrying him off in the direction of the frozen lake.

"No, no, no!" Peter cried as he struggled to free himself from the vice-like grip of the thing's metal claws as it flew higher and higher, until he was at least twenty metres up and directly over the lake.

"Sorry kid," the thing suddenly said, his eerie voice sending another freezing bolt down Peter's spine. "But this party's over."

And then the claws opened, and Peter was free falling through the frigid air, barely able to get his bearings as his suit's built-in parachute deployed, slowing his plummet towards the ice-covered lake just enough to keep his legs from breaking as he slammed down onto the surface.

Stunned, Peter laid there for a moment with his hand over his heart, trying to catch his breath as his parachute fluttered down around him.

"I gotta get back to Liz's house," he muttered, his teeth chattering as the cold from the ice started to seep through his suit, chilling him down to his very bones. Groaning, Peter pushed himself up to a sitting position, and was just about ready to attempt to stand when something off to the side of the lake caught his eye, and another freezing-cold bolt skittered down his spine.

"Oh, shit!" cried Peter as a deafening cracking noise suddenly split the air, the same exact sound that he'd heard up at the Compound when he and Papa were waterskiing, right before he was pulled under the water. Twisting around, Peter let out a shriek as he saw the ice start to split, the crack growing wider and wider as it approached him.

"What the hell?" he yelled as he took off running towards the bank, slipping and sliding across the ice as he tried to stay ahead of the crack, which, in his increasing panic, almost seemed like it was following him.

_But that's just insane! _Peter thought frantically. _Cracks in frozen lakes don't try and follow people!_

"Help!" Peter screamed as he attempted to zigzag, his heart jumping into his throat as the crack zigzagged right with him, finally catching the heel of his left foot. Peter screamed again as he was pulled into the freezing water, his arms and legs flailing as he attempted to break free of whatever it was that was holding him, dragging him down, down, down towards the very bottom of the lake.

And then, just as Peter felt like his lungs were about to explode, he suddenly heard words speaking directly into his mind, the very words that he had tried so hard to bury far, far down into the deepest recesses of his consciousness.

_Longing._

_Rusted._

_Furnace._

_Daybreak._

_Seventeen._

_Benign—_

And then, everything went black.

* * *

_**I'm always eager to hear what you think! Please leave me a review, even if it's just an emoji or keysmash, I appreciate them all! :) **_


	7. Chapter 7

_My name is Peter Stark-Rogers._

_I'm fifteen years old._

_My dad is Tony Stark._

_My papa is Steve Rogers._

_I live in Avengers' Tower._

_I am Spider-Man, and you can't have me._

_I won't let you._

* * *

Steve's heart was in his throat as he clung to Tony's shoulders with his right arm, his left hand clutching his shield as JARVIS guided them to Peter's last known location. They had been sitting quietly in the coffee shop, with Tony working on his tablet and Steve attempting to read when the alert came, telling them that Peter had somehow become submerged in what was supposed to be a frozen lake.

It had taken nearly every ounce of Steve's inner strength to not completely fall apart right there in the coffee shop as soon as JARVIS uttered the word "lake", the memories of what had happened up at the Compound slamming to the forefront of his mind. If it hadn't been for Tony's quick action, and the stoic, no-nonsense look on his face that Steve knew only barely hid his own panic, he wasn't sure if he would've been able to hold himself together.

And even now, as JARVIS piloted the Iron Man armour through the frigid night air and Steve bit down on his lower lip to keep it from shaking, he found himself silently begging every single saint, angel, and deity that he'd ever heard his Catholic mother praying to that his son would be alive once they found him, and that they would be able to find the people or things responsible for trying to hurt him.

_We shouldn't've let him go to that party._

"The rest of the team's on their way, babe," Tony said a few seconds later.

"Copy that," Steve stammered, cursing himself for not at least being in uniform. Being forced to fight a battle without wearing his proper uniform only served to increase his fear, reminding him way too much of the bunker battle in Miami where he had almost managed to lose both Tony and Peter in the span of only a few seconds.

_Oh God, please! Don't take him from us!_

Steve's belly gave a hard swoop as Tony flew over an overpass and the lake came into view. Even in the dim light of the quarter moon Steve could see the huge chunks of ice bobbing in the water like miniature icebergs, and the ripples emanating out from a point in the near-centre, likely where Peter had been pulled underneath the surface.

There was also an eerie, almost unnatural-looking fog rising from the surface, which didn't appear to be part of the lake itself, or a result of the broken ice.

"JARVIS!" Steve cried. "Where is he?"

"Master Peter's current location is at the bottom of the lake, Captain, and he is being held there by an as-yet-unidentified entity."

"Is it the fog, J?" Tony asked, his voice low and gruff like it always was when he was scared.

"I am unsure, sir," answered JARVIS. "I do however agree that the fog does not appear to be a natural phenomenon."

As they flew directly over the rippling area Steve began to squirm, trying to escape Tony's vice-like grip. But Tony held him tight, refusing to budge.

"Tony, let me go!" he cried. "Let me go and find him!"

But before Tony could even answer, the water level in the lake suddenly dropped about a metre as the fog began to rise straight off the surface, swirling counterclockwise as it coalesced into what could only be described as some kind of water monster. Once it was fully formed the creature let out a roar, one so loud that Steve was forced to close his eyes against the pain in his frozen ears.

"What in the goddamn hell is _that?_" Tony yelled as the thing swung its massive fist, hitting Steve square in the back and sending both he and Tony careening towards an old rusty fence near the far bank of the lake. Tony managed to turn just in time to prevent Steve from being slammed against one of the metal posts, the impact allowing Steve to escape from Tony's grip and immediately launch his shield at the water monster.

But to Steve's horror, the creature only batted the shield away as if it were nothing more than a cheap plastic frisbee, sending it flying into a clump of trees near the bank where it lodged about five metres off the ground. Stunned, Steve hesitated for a split-second, just long enough for Tony to get back to his feet and wrap his armoured arms around Steve's waist.

"You are _not_ going into that water, Steve!" he said, low and tight. "Don't you even think about it!"

"The hell I'm not!" Steve shouted back. "Tony, we can't let him drown, we need to save him!"

"No, _I_ need to save him," Tony snapped. "What _you_ need to do is stay here and wait for the rest of the team!"

"No! There's no way I'm gonna just—!"

But he was cut off by Tony's armoured fingers pressing across his lips as he leaned in so close that the metal of his helmet brushed against Steve's nose. "Yes, you goddamn _are_, do you hear me? You stay out of that water, Steve, and that's an order!"

"Tony—!"

"I said, _no!"_ Tony yelled, shoving Steve backwards so hard that he stumbled backwards into the fence, with Tony taking advantage of his momentary disorientation to aim a series of repulsor shots at the creature to distract it just before diving down into the frigid water.

"No! Oh, God!" Steve screamed, his heart dropping to his knees as he watched his husband disappear below the surface. His cry of agony caused the creature to turn towards him and let out another roar, this one even louder and more bone-rattling than the first. Steve instinctively clapped his hands over his ears, sucking in a deep breath as he took off running towards the trees where his shield was stuck, managing to get there just before the thing swung again, hitting the trees and knocking the shield loose. Steve caught it and immediately launched it again, this time hitting the creature just below where its neck would have been.

The monster roared again, twisting towards Steve and swinging its massive water-arm at another tree, sending the top half of the trunk flying towards Steve. Steve yelped as he jumped back, several rough branches slicing across his skin and clothes as the tree bounced once on the bank and then splashed into the dark, icy water.

"Cap!" Sam suddenly said over the comm. "I'm ten seconds out, what's the play?"

"I—" Steve started, then stopped, gulping as he looked towards the centre of the lake, his panic spiking when there was still no sign of Peter or Tony.

"This thing's got Tony and Peter trapped under the water!" Steve cried. "Peter's been submerged for over three minutes now!"

"Copy that," said Sam as he whooshed overhead, his dual guns firing at the creature's head. Unfortunately the bullets seemed to have no effect, appearing to pass directly through the creature as it swung its arm towards Sam, showering him with a cloud of freezing water.

"I don't think guns are gonna work on it," Steve said as he took off for the opposite side, trying to stay behind the creature's back. "Where're Nat and Clint?"

"On our way, Cap," came Natasha's voice over the comm. "Stand by."

"I'm not sure how much longer we can stand by!" Steve shrieked. A second later he heard the loud rev of a motorcycle, with Natasha and Clint appearing on the street about a half a kilometre away. Increasing her speed, Natasha jumped the barrier of thick bushes surrounding that side of the lake, skidding to a halt as she landed.

"What the hell is that thing?" demanded Clint as soon as he jumped from the bike. "It looks like a really fucked-up version of the abominable snowman!"

"Don't think you're too far off there, Hawkeye," replied Sam. "I've sure never seen anything like it!"

"Nat, hit it with your Bites, the electrical charge should help disrupt the water!" Steve commanded. _Damnit, Tony, where are you?_

Natasha immediately planted her feet and launched a Widow's Bite from each wrist, catching the creature on its midsection and causing a brief hole to form.

"Nat, do that again!" called Clint, jumping down to the ground next to her. He quickly notched an arrow, launching it in an arc to land in the exact same spot where the hole had just reformed and sending a shockwave of electricity rippling throughout the entire creature. Less than a second later Steve heard the unmistakable sound of Tony's repulsors firing as Tony shot out of the water straight up through the monster, carrying Peter's limp body in his arms.

"Peter!" Steve cried, holding out his arms as Tony flew towards him, his shield dropping to the ground. "Oh God, is he—?"

"Take him, honey," Tony ordered as he transferred their unconscious son as quickly and carefully as he could. "He's got a lot of water down in his lungs."

"I'll take care of him," Steve gasped as he cradled Peter close, brushing the soaked hair from his eyes and kissing his forehead. Peter's skin was littered with scrapes and bruises and as cold as a metal flagpole, and his lips were an absolutely horrible shade of bluish-purple, sending a violent shiver through Steve as he draped him over his arm and clapped his palm between the boy's shoulder blades. Peter jerked three times before coughing up what seemed like more water than his lungs should be able to hold, gagging and sputtering before going completely limp again.

"Peter?" Steve asked, gently shaking his shoulder. "Wake up, little guy, please? I need to see you open your eyes, okay?"

_And Peter lay there in Bucky's arms, as limp as a rag doll… and Steve at first couldn't tell if he was alive or dead… _

_Oh God, please, not again!_

"Peter!" Steve cried as he patted Peter's pale, clammy cheek. "No, no, no, little guy, don't do this to me again, I can't—!" He pressed his ear to Peter's chest, nearly collapsing in relief when he heard the sound of his heartbeat and air moving through his lungs.

Peter was alive. He was unconscious, but at least he was alive.

"Okay, little guy," Steve murmured, hugging his son as tightly as he dared. "It's gonna be okay, I promise." _It's gonna be okay, it's gonna be okay, it has to be okay—_

_But it's just like Miami all over again, _his traitorous mind thought as his heart started to thud, so madly that he felt lightheaded. _Oh God, I can't—I can't do that again, I can't—_

"Steve?" Tony said over the comm, followed immediately by a repulsor blast aimed at the water monster's head. "Babe, is he breathing?"

"Yeah, he's breathing," Steve answered, watching Peter's chest as it rose and fell with his shallow, gurgling breaths. "But he's not—he won't wake up, Tony—he won't—he's not waking up, and—"

"Steve," Bruce suddenly said over the comm. "Helen and I are on our way, we're just a couple minutes out. Try and keep him as warm as possible until we get there, okay? Skin to skin contact would be best if you can do it."

The monster roared again, drowning out any reply that Steve might have made. "Skin to skin contact," he muttered as he quickly laid Peter across his lap, shrugging out of his leather jacket and t-shirt before tearing Peter's Spider-Man suit right down the front, exposing his skinny chest. He then gathered Peter close, chest to chest, wrapping his jacket around Peter's back like a blanket and tucking his head under his chin.

"Papa's got you, little guy," Steve whispered into his son's wet hair, kissing the top of his head and trying to ignore the freezing air hitting his bare back and arms. "It's gonna be okay now, I've got you."

"God_damnit_ this thing just doesn't wanna give up the ghost!" Clint grumbled as he fired yet another electric arrow at the monster, managing to hit its arm just as it was about to slam into Tony. Tony quickly doubled back as the creature roared, hitting it with his repulsors but still not managing to cause enough damage to destroy it.

"Cap, we need another option here," Sam said as he flew overhead. "Anything we're able to do just gets fixed as soon as the damn thing moves again."

"Is there no way to move it away from the lake?" Steve asked. "If it's drawing its power from the water, moving it away might help."

"That's a good theory honey, but I don't see how it would be possible," said Tony. "This thing seems pretty attached to the water."

"JARVIS, is there any way you can boost Tony's firepower?" asked Bruce as he and Dr Cho pulled up next to Steve in the massive converted Suburban the team kept for local medical emergencies. Steve immediately climbed into the back where Dr Cho was waiting, laying Peter down on the stretcher.

"I'm afraid that's unlikely, Doctor," answered JARVIS. "We are already at over one hundred and fifty percent of capacity. Any more and we will compromise the flight power of the armour."

"Do you know how long Peter was submerged, Captain?" Dr Cho asked as she activated a warming blanket, covering Peter's lower body up to his chest.

"It was over three minutes, almost four," Steve choked out, fighting against the tears threatening to spill over as he pulled his jacket back on. "It was maybe fifteen or twenty seconds from when JARVIS alerted us until we were in the air, and we weren't that far away, so—"

Dr Cho cut him off with a nod and raised hand as she pressed her stethoscope to Peter's chest, while Bruce stuck warming packs in Peter's armpits and behind his knees and prepped him for an IV. "There are rales in his lung sounds but he seems to be moving air well, so whatever water is still down there should be able to work out on its own."

"Okay," Steve said, wincing as Bruce stuck Peter's arm with the IV needle, his heart skipping when Peter didn't even flinch. "But when will he wake up? Because he's acting just like he did—" he broke off then, rubbing at his nose as a single tear escaped down his cheek. "I think something happened under the water, something like what happened down in Miami, 'cause he—he hates needles, and he didn't even move just now when Bruce—I mean, he's just not waking up, and—"

"Captain," Dr Cho said firmly as she grabbed onto Steve's arm. "If that is indeed the case, then we will take care of him just like we did then. And he will come back to us, just like he did then."

Her clinical, no-nonsense words hit Steve like a blast to the chest, and he gasped, groping for Peter's hand under the blanket and squeezing it tight. At the moment he didn't think he could survive it again if that was in fact the case, survive all the weeks of waiting, of physical therapy and tube feedings and begging and pleading with Peter to wake up over and over again. _I miss seeing your eyes, little guy, and those funny things you can do with your eyebrows, and the different smiles that you have for me and for dad, and how you look up to Uncle Bucky so much, and—and—_

But he would, because the alternative was—it was—

It was just… _unacceptable._

"Okay," he managed as he brought Peter's hand to his lips, kissing the back of it and then pressing it to his cheek. "Okay."

Just then one of the brightest bolts of lightning Steve had ever seen lit up the sky around them, accompanied by a shocked, "Holy _shit!_" from Clint as a clap of thunder followed directly on its heels, so loud that it shook the Suburban.

"What the—?" Bruce said as he grabbed onto Peter's stretcher, stabilising it as another bolt of lightning appeared, even larger and brighter than the first and with its accompanying crack of thunder just as deafening. Steve instinctively shielded his eyes with his hand as he attempted to keep them on Tony, his belly swooping as he feared that another monster was preparing to join the fight.

"Well, it's about goddamn time!" he heard Tony say not even a second later as he flew past the Suburban. "Waiting to make a dramatic entrance, I see? How typical!"

"I do apologise for my tardiness, gentlemen!" Thor—_Thor!_—said as he landed on the grass about five metres away from the Suburban. "Now, quickly tell me how we can dispose of this rather troublesome creature!"

"Tony—!" Steve started, quickly interrupted by his husband who had been obviously thinking the exact same thing.

"Great idea, babe," Tony said as he landed about ten metres away from Thor, facing him and pointing to his arc reactor. "Thor, charge me up!"

Luckily, Thor caught on immediately, raising his hammer above his head until the sky was filled with crackling lightning bolts and even Steve felt the hair on his arms start to rise. He then watched as Thor shot the electric bolts directly at Tony, squeezing Peter's hand as Tony stumbled slightly backwards as he absorbed the charge.

"Okay, Widow, Thor, Hawkeye, all on my mark," Tony said as he turned to face the water monster, who was still in the centre of the lake, roaring and swinging at trees and at Sam as he swooped overhead. "Three… two… one… mark!"

The amount of lighting and electricity that Steve's four teammates launched at the creature was so bright and so strong that the medical equipment inside the Suburban actually blew out, requiring Bruce to hook up the auxiliary power. Squinting, Steve watched as the monster let out a final bellowing roar before exploding, showering the entire lake and the surrounding shoreline with icy water.

There was a few seconds of stunned silence, until Sam spoke up. "Um… did anyone else just see that, or was it just me?"

"See what?" Steve demanded. "Sam, what did you see?"

"There's a dude in the water," Sam said as he dove towards the middle of the lake, scooping what appeared to be a man floating facedown on the surface. Steve locked eyes with Bruce, with Bruce tilting his head in silent question.

"You gentlemen go, I'll monitor Peter," said Dr Cho.

"Thank you," Steve answered as he gave Peter's hand a quick squeeze, then placed it carefully under his blanket and turned to Bruce. "But whoever that is out there, he doesn't come within five metres of Peter, understand? Code green?"

"Got it, Cap," said Bruce as he grabbed a medical kit and jumped out of the truck, hurrying over to where Sam was laying the man out on the grass with Steve on his heels. The man's skin was very pale, almost translucent, and from what Steve could see he appeared to be having some sort of fit or seizure, with his entire body twitching like he was being electrocuted.

Pursing his lips, Bruce carefully covered him with a blanket as Tony's helmet retracted and he leaned over him, his face twisted in anger.

"Who the hell are you?" he demanded, causing the man's eyelids to fly open, wide with shock and fear. "Why did you attack my son?"

Gasping for breath, the man frantically shook his head, his lips moving as if he was trying to speak, which only seemed to infuriate Tony even more.

"Who the hell are you?" Tony yelled, grabbing onto the man's shoulders and shaking him. "I asked you a question, you asshole! Why did you attack my son?"

"Tony," Steve said as he reached for his husband, gently but firmly removing his hands from the man as his twitching grew worse and he started gasping for breath. "Bruce, what's wrong with him?"

"I don't know, Steve," answered Bruce just as the man let out a very soggy cough, jumping back when a bunch of water ran out of his mouth.

Or, at least Steve thought it was water. But water wasn't usually… _slimy_… was it?

"Bruce?" Steve asked as the man coughed again, and more of the shiny, slimy water came pouring out.

"What the hell is that stuff?" asked Clint as even more of the shiny water started to pool and then drain off the man's exposed skin, almost like sweat. "It's almost like he's—"

"That's 'cause that's exactly what he's doing," Bruce cut in. He looked up at Tony, who nodded in apparent agreement. "It's like his skin is losing its cohesion, and his cell membranes are just… dissolving."

"Okay, but you can fix it, right?" Steve asked, his panic already spiking again. "Because we need to know who did this, and why, and—"

Tony stopped him with a hand on his arm, his upper lip curling into a sneer. "Honey, it can't be fixed. This guy attacked Pete, and now he's gonna die for it."

"I didn't—!" the man gasped, grabbing onto Bruce's arm and causing him to jump. "I was—I was programmed—I didn't have a choice—I didn't—!"

"Programmed?" asked Natasha. "Steve, maybe he means like the Winter Soldier? This might've been a mission for him."

"Is that it?" demanded Steve as he loomed over the man, his eyebrows knitting together into a frown. "Were you ordered to target our son?"

The man gave a jerky nod, prompting Steve to ask, "Who did this? Who gave you those orders? Why would they want you to attack Peter, he's just a boy!"

But the man only coughed again, sending a geyser of the slimy fluid shooting out of his mouth and splashing down onto the blanket. Steve immediately shrank back as Tony leaned closer, almost right into the man's face.

"What's your name? Who did this to you?"

"M-my name is B-b—" the man started, then erupted into a coughing fit that was so wet and disgusting that Steve literally felt his skin crawl, the sound bringing back way too many memories of soldiers choking on their own blood in the battlefield.

"Goddamnit, who did this to you?" demanded Tony. "Who ordered you to attack our son? Tell us who!"

"D-doc—" the man managed to gasp through his gurgling, just before he let out a piercing scream. Steve immediately shrank back, grabbing Tony's shoulders as more and more fluid poured off the man's skin.

"Oh, shit!" Clint exclaimed as not even three seconds later the man literally melted away, leaving nothing behind but a patch of shiny, wet grass and the stupid blanket. Steve made a sound, somewhere between a croak and a gasp that never made it past his throat as Tony jerked free of Steve's hold and punched the spot where the man's head had been, his shoulders shaking with pent-up anger.

Stunned silence fell across the area, with the smooth, calm lake an ironic expression of serenity now that the battle was over, but Steve was anything but serene as he reached for his husband again.

"Tony—"

"Where's Pete?" Tony said, low and tight. "Steve? Where is he?"

"He's—he's in the truck, sweetheart," Steve murmured as he helped Tony to his feet, clutching his hand as he led him towards the Suburban. "And he's… stable, at least for now."

Wordlessly, Tony stepped out of his armour and climbed into the back of the truck, not taking his eyes off of Peter's face as he knelt down next to him, brushing the damp curls off his forehead and leaning down to kiss him. Then he reached his hand back which Steve promptly took, lacing their fingers together as Bruce and Dr Cho settled into the front seats to head back to the Tower.

"He's wearing his suit, Steve," Tony murmured as Bruce started the truck, driving carefully over the damp grass. "He's wearing his suit and nothing else. JARVIS couldn't find any of his other clothes in the water, which means he must've left 'em somewhere else, which means—"

"You think he tried to fight this thing on his own?" Steve asked, agast. He licked his lips as he glanced down at their unconscious son, his mind a whirl of conflicting emotions. "But… Tony, _why?_ After that video, and everything we've told him about being careful, why would he go and do such a thing?"

"I don't know, Steve, okay?" Tony snapped. "Teenagers do stupid things all the damn time, but—"

"But Peter doesn't, Tony!" Steve insisted. "He just doesn't, and especially not like this, so something must've happened that lured him out here!"

Tony scoffed, catching his bottom lip between his teeth as he dug under Peter's blanket and pulled out his waterlogged phone. "JARVIS?"

"At your service, sir."

"Pull any salvageable audio files from Pete's phone and display," Tony said, tapping the monitor mounted to the inside of the truck.

"Yes, sir. Several of the files were unfortunately damaged by the water, but there are a few that might be of use."

"Show us, J. Text only."

The monitor blinked as lines of text appeared, with Tony's grip on Steve's hand getting tighter as they read a transcript of Peter and his friends discussing the colour of Steve's eyes and the shape of Tony's facial hair and then playing a few rounds of Clue. Steve's jaw involuntarily clenched as he read several sentences of what appeared to be a not-so-friendly exchange between Peter and his classmate Flash regarding the battle in Miami, followed directly by Peter saying that he needed some air.

And then a few lines later, a sentence that practically jumped from the screen and bit Steve on the nose.

_Oh my God! Liz's dad is one of the people trying to steal from Damage Control!_

"Tony!" Steve yelped, rereading the sentence again just to make sure he wasn't seeing things. "Look—!"

"Yeah, I see it. Pete must've overheard something," Tony said, his voice laced with so much guilt and self-loathing that Steve's heart clenched. "JARVIS?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Get this to Maria Hill ASAP, we need to put out an arrest warrant on Adrian Toomes before he can get the hell outta dodge. And something tells me he's gonna need protective custody, 'cause I don't think his bosses are gonna be too happy with him once we get our hands on him."

"Right away, sir."

Steve scrubbed his palm down his face as he glanced back at Peter, lying as still as a corpse on the stretcher. His lips were no longer blue, thanks to the warming packs and blanket and the heated IV fluids flowing into his skinny body, but he still looked just as pale and lifeless as he had down in that Miami hospital, and no matter how much Steve tried to tell himself that it wasn't the same, it didn't seem to be working.

_Oh my sweet boy, _he thought as he carefully cupped Peter's round cheek. _What on earth were you thinking?_

"Steve," Tony said softly, drawing Steve's attention back to the monitor, where Tony was pointing to the last line of displayed text.

The text that read: longing, rusted, furnace, daybreak, seventeen, benign, nine, homecoming, one, and freight car.

"Oh my God," Steve breathed as his heart started to thud. "Aren't those the same words that Bucky kept mumbling when we first brought him to the Tower?"

"Some of 'em," agreed Tony. "He ended up telling Sam later on that he thought they might've been trigger words or something like that. Words his handlers used when they needed him to go on a new mission."

"And the water monster guy said that he'd been programmed to go after Peter!" Steve exclaimed. "Tony, we thought SHIELD got all the Winter Soldiers from the Miami bunker, but what if we've been wrong all this time!"

"No, honey, I don't think this guy was one of those Winter Soldiers," Tony said. "Clint and Natasha made sure that they were all accounted for, and none of 'em ever just disintegrated like that, so this has to be someone else."

"Pardon me, sir," JARVIS said. "But Agents Romanoff and Barton are requesting access to your laboratory in the penthouse. For research purposes."

"Yeah, J, that's fine."

"And also, Mr Thor is inquiring if his apartment is still available?"

"Yeah, yeah, J, it's in the same place it's always been," Tony answered. "Tell him to make himself at home, but no shooting any lightning bolts indoors, all right? I'm definitely not in the mood for any holes in the ceilings. Not to mention last time he blew out at least three fuse boxes."

"Very good, sir."

"And can you also please make sure the heat is turned up in Peter's room?" Steve added. "It needs to be at least twenty-eight degrees in there when we get there."

"Yes, Captain, it is already done."

They pulled into the Tower garage only a few minutes later, with Steve carefully guiding Peter's stretcher up to the penthouse and into his heated room while Dr Cho readied her EEG machine to examine his neurological functioning. Steve clung to Tony's hand as Dr Cho conducted the test, his chest aching with every shallow breath.

_We never should've let him go to that party._

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Dr Cho finished her exam, turning to Steve and Tony with a wary look on her face that sent Steve's heart into his throat.

"Is he—is he—?"

"He's not exactly in a coma," Dr Cho said, and Steve nearly collapsed in relief. "But he's not exactly just asleep either. I've actually never seen readings like this in anyone else…" She paused, giving her head a slight shake. "Peter's brain wave patterns are alternating between two and four Hz, which is consistent with deep sleep in a child, but there are occasional dips down to zero, which is below the frequency for the delta waves usually seen during the deepest stages of sleep." She pointed to the computer printout, marking the various peaks with her pen. "Now, these dips do seem to follow a similar pattern to the EEGs I took shortly before Peter regained consciousness down in Miami, so whatever happened to him tonight doesn't appear to be as severe a blow, but—"

"But it was still a blow," Steve said softly as he squeezed Tony's hand.

Dr Cho gave a heavy sigh. "Yes, Captain, it was a blow," she said gently. "But try and remember, Peter has a healing factor that's equal or even stronger than yours, and he was able to previously heal from an even worse injury with no apparent lingering effects. We just have to give him time."

_All we can do is wait._

The heavy silence was broken by Tony clearing his throat. "Thanks, Helen."

"You're welcome, of course," replied Dr Cho as she began removing the leads from Peter's head and packing up the machine. Then she adjusted a setting on Peter's IV pump and tucked his blankets up, her soft touch and concerned expression only reinforcing how much she adored Peter.

_Because it's truly impossible not to, _Steve thought. _Anyone who meets Peter ends up adoring him._

_Well, at least anyone who's not evil._

As soon as the elevator doors closed Tony brought Steve's hand to his lips, kissing his knuckles. "Why don't you go and get changed, babe," he said. "If we're gonna be here for awhile, then… you're gonna want to be more comfortable."

"Tony—"

"And you might wanna clean up your face a bit too," Tony added with a concerned frown. "You look like you got clawed by something."

"It was a tree," murmured Steve. "But—"

"Honey, _please!_" Tony begged. He placed both hands on Steve's shoulders, his brown eyes glassy as they pleaded with him to listen. "Please, just go get cleaned up, okay? I promise nothing else is gonna happen while you're in the shower."

It was on the tip of Steve's tongue to continue to protest, but one look at Tony's pale, drawn face and he decided against it. Tony had needed the routine they had developed while caring for Peter down in Miami, likening it to caring for him as a premature baby after he was born, and Steve knew he was going to need that routine again, for his own peace of mind.

And Steve had to admit that he needed it as well. Routines were good. They tended to help keep his mind from sinking into those deep, dark places where the demons liked to hide.

"All right," he said as he kissed Tony's cheek. "I'll be back soon."

He returned about ten minutes later, showered and shaved and in comfortable clothes to find Tony sitting on Peter's bed with his arm around Peter's shoulders and Peter curled right up against him. If it hadn't been for the IV running into Peter's arm, it would have seemed as though Tony was simply cuddling him to sleep.

Pressing a quick kiss to Tony's forehead, Steve took his place on Peter's opposite side, laying down next to him and carefully draping his arm across his waist. Bruce, Natasha, Clint, and Bucky were all working in Tony's lab, already trying to figure out what had happened, but Steve knew they wouldn't bother them for awhile unless it became absolutely necessary.

Once Steve was settled, Tony reached his hand over Peter's head and wove his fingers through Steve's hair, telling him without words exactly what Steve needed to hear.

"_We're in this together, babe."_

To which Steve's answering touch responded, "_Whatever it takes."_

* * *

"Pardon me, sir," JARVIS said gently, jarring Tony from his fitful semi-doze. "But Miss Stacy is on the line requesting an update on Master Peter's condition, and she sounds rather concerned."

Tony groaned, rubbing at the sharp crick in his neck from trying to sleep while sitting up. He'd kicked Steve out of the penthouse about an hour ago to go work out with Sam and Clint after he had another one of his bad anxiety attacks, but while he knew it was good for Steve to get out, it meant that Tony was left completely alone with his thoughts, which were not very good company at the moment.

And as such, he really had no idea what to tell Peter's worried girlfriend about his condition. Steve had spoken to her the last time that she'd called, telling her that Peter had been diagnosed with mononucleosis and was taking a nap, and would speak to her as soon as possible. But that had been three days ago, and as smart as the Stacy girl was, she likely wasn't going to buy another story of Peter conveniently napping every single time she tried to call. Ned had called a couple of times too, but since he still remembered when Peter was the scrawny, sickly kid he used to be before his enhancements kicked in, he was a bit easier to brush off.

"All right, give me a sec," Tony said as he slid off of Peter's bed and over to the table in the corner by the windows. "Go ahead and put her through over here."

A couple seconds later Gwen's face appeared on Tony's tablet, looking so worried that Tony felt a small twinge of guilt for having to lie to her. As much as he hated to admit it, the girl did seem to care about Peter, and he for her.

"Hello, Miss Stacy," he said, as politely as he could.

"Mr Stark!" Gwen said, rather frantically as she tugged on the end of her blonde ponytail. "Um… I was hoping that I could talk to Peter?"

"Yeah, sorry, but he's sleeping. Doctor's orders."

"Oh," Gwen replied as her face fell. "Um… he's been sleeping quite a bit, hasn't he? I mean, it's been four days now, and everytime I try to call he's always sleeping. Doesn't that worry… someone?"

"Unfortunately there's not much to do for mono besides supportive care, as I'm sure you're aware, being as intelligent as you are," Tony said. "And Pete was sick for over a month the last time he had this, so… I know it sucks, but there's really nothing else we can do about it."

Gwen let out a heavy sigh, nodding somberly. "Okay. But can you please tell him that I called once he wakes up? I'm just worried—the whole team, we're just worried about him, and… the way he ran out of Liz's party after what Flash said to him, I just… and I'm sure you've heard that Mr Toomes got arrested? Something about some illegal weapons trafficking or something… that's what I heard from my dad, at least, but—"

"Yeah, I heard about it," Tony said casually, even as his grip tightened on the tablet. "That's too bad for your friend."

"Yeah, Liz is pretty upset about it, she told us that she's gonna be moving out of state now with her mom 'cause her dad's in some kind of witness protection or something, so… but please don't forget to tell Peter that I called? Please? And as soon as he's feeling better I can bring his homework by, and—"

"I'll be sure and let him know," Tony interrupted. "Thank you, Miss Stacy."

"Oh, okay. Thanks, Mr Stark. I'll… um… is it okay if I try again tomorrow? Maybe I can catch Peter when he's awake for once?"

"Yeah, sure," Tony said with a sigh. "No harm in trying."

"Oh, thank you!" Gwen exclaimed. "Thank you, I really appreciate it. Um… I guess I'll… um…"

"Yeah, yeah. Thanks for the call, Miss Stacy," said Tony. "Talk to you later."

Tony disconnected the call before Gwen could respond, which he regretted a few seconds later but quickly brushed off. The Stacy girl was nice enough, but Tony wasn't sure he'd be able to talk to her again unless Peter's condition changed, which at the moment didn't look like it was going to happen anytime soon. He'd have to get Steve to do it.

Pushing himself up from his chair, Tony dropped the tablet onto the table with a clatter and shuffled back over to Peter's bed, climbing in next to him and brushing the hair off his forehead. His heart gave a leap when he thought he saw Peter's lips twitch at his touch, but it was there and gone again so fast that he realised a moment later he had probably only imagined it.

_Oh, Petey,_ he thought miserably. _What in the hell happened to you in that lake?_

They had theories, of course. Bruce, Natasha, Clint, and Bucky had been working almost nonstop in Tony's lab ever since they brought Peter back to the Tower, trying to discover the identity of the mystery assailant and who might've programmed him to attack Peter. They were hypothesizing that whoever it was had ties to either the Mongolian HYDRA base or to the group of thugs trying to steal from Damage Control, with Steve going even further and suggesting that the two were somehow linked.

Unfortunately, while Adrian Toomes had been arrested on charges of doctoring official Damage Control books, they couldn't yet charge him with theft of government property because they had yet to actually recover anything that he'd been suspected of stealing. And, while the conversation Peter overheard indicated that Toomes had been speaking to someone who apparently didn't like Tony very much, they couldn't as of yet figure out who it was as all of Toomes' phone records were erased by an outside third party before he was even arrested, and erased so well that not even JARVIS had been able to recover them.

And of course, Toomes was absolutely refusing to say a word to anyone without having a ridiculous immunity deal in place first, which Steve was taking as a personal affront. He was so frustrated that he had already punched through the wall in Tony's lab once, and barely been halted by Bucky a second time.

Tony had just finished turning Peter onto his opposite side and readjusting his pillows when JARVIS spoke up. "Pardon me, sir, but Dr Banner is requesting your presence in the laboratory. Captain Rogers is already there."

"Steve's there?" Tony asked. "What, they call him up from the gym or something?"

"Yes, sir."

"So Bruce actually has something of value this time?"

"I do believe that he believes so, sir," answered JARVIS.

"Yeah, that's more like it," grumbled Tony. As much as he appreciated Bruce and the work that he did, there were occasions where he tended to get ahead of himself, and at the moment Tony had absolutely no patience for it.

"All right, fine. But I want a monitor on Pete the entire time I'm in there, understand?"

"Understood, sir."

Tucking Peter's blankets up to his neck, Tony pecked a quick kiss on his forehead and headed out of his room towards the lab, where he found everyone crowded around Bruce's workstation and Bucky holding a copy of a Russian-English dictionary that looked to be at least a hundred years old.

"What'd you find?" Tony said tersely as he came up next to Steve, relaxing only slightly when Steve silently took his hand.

"Tony, we've finally managed to find the source of the decryption key for these files," Bruce said, removing his glasses. "Nat and I theorised that the key was located in a Russian text of some kind, and so we've had JARVIS running simulations pretty much ever since we got back from Mongolia, and I think we've finally found the correct text."

"Okay, so what is it?" asked Tony, glancing furtively at Peter's monitor.

Natasha tapped the keyboard, bringing up a picture of another old Russian book. "This is the Russian Synodal Bible, otherwise known as Синодальный перевод. What we've been able to find so far is that there are certain phrases in this text that will unlock some of the files that we recovered from the Mongolian base."

"Why only some of the files?" asked Steve.

"We actually believe that it'll unlock all of them eventually," said Bruce. "But unfortunately, this Bible had a rather tenuous history with the translation that caused it to be delayed for over fifty years, and during that time there were several changes in both dialect and the people who were in charge of actually translating it, so—"

"Okay, I think we can dispense with the history lesson," Tony said sharply. "Just tell us what you found."

Bruce frowned as he tapped the keyboard, displaying a file written in Russian that JARVIS quickly translated. "This is the initial list of names that we found at the Mongolian bunker. The first name is Donald Gill, the second Morris Bench, the third Mark Raxton—"

"I swear to God, big guy, you had better have called me in here for something more than this," Tony interrupted. "'Cause I'm sure it's no surprise that my patience is wearing a bit thin lately, so—"

"We were able to find out who the first two names are," said Natasha. "Or, were, I guess. From what we can tell they're both dead now."

"And we're sure about this?" asked Steve, his hand shaking in Tony's. "Absolutely sure?"

"Well… no, Steve, we can't be a hundred percent positive," said Bruce. "I mean, we're working with a hundred and fifty year-old Russian Bible that's got at least seven different language dialects within the translation, and that's not even including all the different variations of the modern translations. So no, we can't be absolutely sure. But I also can't see how we're wrong about this either."

"Стиви," Bucky said. "We're all worried about Птер too, and we're workin' as fast as we can. But Наталия is right, this isn't something we can rush. If we pick the wrong phrase when we're trying to decrypt we risk losing the entire file, and then we're back at square one."

Steve's eyebrows knitted together, and he glanced over at Tony with such anguish in his blue eyes that a lump rose in Tony's throat.

"Just… show us what you found, big guy, yeah?" Tony said quietly.

Bruce tapped the keyboard again, bringing up the picture of a lanky brown-haired and bespectacled man who appeared to be in his late thirties to early forties.

"This is Donald Gill," he said. "From what we've found, Gill was a scientist for SHIELD who was working on a couple of super-secret projects that involved cryokinesis. Apparently, the lead scientist on those projects, who we still have yet to identify, thought they would be useful for military applications."

"Okay, but what's cryokin—" Steve started, just as Tony let out a gasp.

"Holy shit," he said, turning to Bruce with wide eyes. "Cryokinesis? Ice manipulation?"

Bruce gave a somber nod. "Yeah. The theory is that by reducing the kinetic energy of atoms, it condenses them and makes them colder, which—"

"Ice?" Steve said through clenched teeth, his hand clutching Tony's to the point of pain. "Tony—?"

"Yeah babe, that's exactly what I'm thinking," Tony answered. "This must be the guy who caused the lake to freeze over up at the Compound."

"That was our theory as well, Tony," Natasha said gently. "You mentioned that you saw something off to the side of the lake right before the ice formed, so if this guy Gill caused the ice and then disintegrated afterwards like the other guy did a few days ago, it would explain why we couldn't find him."

"Okay, but none of this explains why these people keep coming after Peter!" Steve said, his voice cracking on their son's name. "What do all these people want with him, he's just a boy!"

"Steve, we all know that," Bruce said carefully. "Every single one of us knows that. But from HYDRA's perspective, Peter is a boy with a very unique genetic makeup that in their eyes would make him the perfect candidate for a Winter Soldier." He glanced sheepishly at Bucky, who gave him a quick nod. "All of the other enhanced individuals that we've encountered, including the other Winter Soldiers, yourself and Bucky, and even me, were enhanced after the fact. Artificially, if you will. But Peter, his is a natural phenomenon that started to develop when he hit puberty, and as far as we can see, one that's still developing as he continues to grow. His strength is still increasing, his senses are still becoming more enhanced, and right now we don't really know when that'll stop. Forgive me for saying so, but a person like that would be very attractive to HYDRA, or anyone else with nefarious intentions."

"Bruce is right, Steve," Sam spoke up before Steve could even react. "And you know he's just stating facts here, right?"

Tony watched as Steve's throat bobbed as he struggled to swallow, his tight jaw twitching. "Yes, I know," he said softly, clearing his throat. "So, if this theory is true, then have we identified the water monster yet?"

"We think so," answered Natasha. She tapped the keyboard again, bringing up another photograph. "This is Morris Bench. He was the second name we decrypted in Mongolia, and from what we've been able to find, he was one of the crew members on the Lemurian Star, which in addition to launching the satellites that were part of Project Insight was also rumoured to be testing some sort of experimental generator."

"That was the mission you guys went on before the whole Project Insight mess, wasn't it?" Tony asked, pinching the bridge of his nose. He had been nursing a headache for the last several hours, and was well overdue for more coffee.

"That's right," Steve said. "It's where we recovered the initial data on the algorithm, and the ship was supposed to be turned over to SHIELD once we left, but—"

"Apparently Secretary Pierce got there first," said Bruce. "Anyway, we're assuming that both Gill and Bench were taken to that Mongolian base, and—"

"And turned into Winter Soldiers," Steve finished. "Or whatever these new things are called."

"But whatever HYDRA did to them obviously didn't work right," said Bruce. "'Cause now they're both dead, and neither one were successful—"

"Or, HYDRA didn't care if they were killed or not, as long as they completed the mission," Bucky said with a scowl. "Seems like they're getting pretty desperate if they're using disposable soldiers now."

Tony glanced over at Peter's monitor, at his son lying there motionless while his mind tried to repair itself yet again. "What about the other names on the list?"

"We're still working on locating them, Tony," said Bruce. "But as soon as we do, we'll—"

He was cut off by a piercing scream, one that nearly stopped Tony's heart. In a flash, Steve took off running out of the lab, nearly tearing Tony's arm from its socket as they raced back to Peter's room to find him thrashing around on his bed, obviously trapped in one of his nightmares.

"No!" Peter cried, the pathetic sound piercing Tony's heart like a shiv. "My name is Peter Stark-Rogers! I'm fifteen years old! I live in Avengers' Tower, and you can't have me! I won't let you!"

"Steve—!" Tony exclaimed, but Steve was already there, approaching Peter as if he were a cornered wild animal.

"Hey, hey, hey, little guy, it's okay. I've got you," Steve said as he attempted to grab onto their flailing son. Tony cringed as Peter managed to twist out of Steve's grasp and grab onto his IV needle, ripping it right out of his arm and causing blood to spurt from the open wound, dripping down his arm and onto the bed.

"Peter!" Steve said sharply as he grabbed onto Peter's bleeding arm, causing him to shriek and jerk his head, connecting the back of it directly with Steve's nose, with the sickening _crack _that followed loud enough to turn Tony's stomach. Steve immediately cried out, shielding his bleeding nose with one hand while still trying to wrangle Peter with the other.

"JARVIS—!" Tony gasped, intending to summon his armour just as Bucky came through the door. He hurried behind Peter and wrapped his arms around him, pinning his arms to his sides and whispering something that Tony couldn't quite catch into his ear. Peter screamed again, struggling for a few more seconds before finally going limp in Bucky's arms. Bucky hesitated for a moment, then gave Tony a nod as he carefully cradled Peter's bloody arm.

"It's okay, buddy, it's okay now," Tony said as he climbed into the bed, smoothing Peter's sweaty hair from his forehead as his eyes fluttered open, wet with tears. "You're safe."

"Daddy?" Peter cried. "Daddy, they can't have me! I won't let them!"

"No one's gonna get you, Pete," Tony said firmly. "I _promise."_

"Dad's right, little guy," Steve said in a muffled voice. "We're not gonna let anything happen to you."

"Uh huh," Peter said as Tony gathered him close, all shaking limbs and chattering teeth. Peter's hands scrabbled at Tony's arms, gripping handfuls of his shirt just like he always did when he was a baby as Bucky draped a blanket across his shoulders.

"Shh, buddy, it's okay," Tony whispered, over and over as Steve curled his arms around them both, carefully blotting Peter's bloody arm with the bedsheet. "We've got you."

Slowly, Peter's stiff body began to relax as he breathed in a slow, deep breath. Then his head whipped around to look at Steve, his eyes narrowing as he noticed Steve's bruised and bloodied nose.

"No, no, no!" he cried, his voice rising with every word. He pushed against Tony, nearly sending him off the side of the bed as he tried to crawl away. "Oh God, Papa, I _hurt_ you!"

"No, no, little guy, please, don't!" Steve pleaded, holding tight to Peter's waist. "It was an accident, you didn't mean it, and I'm gonna be just fine. Don't you even worry about it. Dad and I are just so happy to have you back!"

But Peter only shook his head, his eyes so filled with self-loathing that Tony's breath caught. "But—but, I _hurt _you, Papa!"

"Shh, little guy," murmured Steve. "I promise it's okay. It's not the first time that I've had my nose broken, Uncle Bucky can attest to that." He shot Tony a look of fear mixed with relief. "Dad and I are just really, really happy to have you back again."

Shuddering, Peter folded himself into Tony again, trying to make himself as small as possible. "They can't have me, Daddy. I'm not gonna be… what they're trying to make me be."

"Shh, buddy, it's okay now," Tony soothed, brushing his son's tears away with his thumbs as Steve's arms tightened around them both. "No one's gonna get you, we promise."

"Mmm," Peter murmured. "My arm hurts."

"That's 'cause you ripped out your IV, bud," Tony said, his heart rate finally returning to something resembling normal. He nodded at Bruce, who quickly fetched the first aid kit from Peter's bathroom and bandaged his torn-up arm before turning his attention to Steve's busted-up face.

"This might hurt a bit," Bruce warned Steve as he tweaked Steve's nose back into place, the hair-raising _pop _that it made sending a violent shiver down Tony's spine. Steve jumped and gritted his teeth but was otherwise silent, likely because he didn't want Peter to see that he was in pain.

"Do you want me to call Helen?" Bruce asked Tony after he'd handed Steve a cold pack for his nose. "I mean, Peter seems like he's okay now, but—"

"Let's not at the moment, okay?" Tony said. He kissed the top of Peter's head, which smelled very strongly of fifteen-year-old boy sweat. "Maybe just let us get Pete cleaned up and get him some food first?"

"Yes, please," said Peter. "I'm starving!"

"I'm on it," Sam said quickly, disappearing towards the kitchen.

"All right, but we still want you to take it easy, little guy, okay?" said Steve. "Just let us take care of you."

Peter wrinkled his nose, but nodded anyway. "Uh huh."

"Let's get you in the tub, bud," Tony said. "The eau de teenage boy you're emanating is a bit strong at the moment."

"Ha ha ha."

Carefully, Steve hefted Peter off the bed, letting him test his wobbly legs a bit before releasing him to walk to the bathroom with Tony's help. At least they didn't have to worry about Peter losing as much of his muscle mass this time around since he was only asleep for a few days instead of several weeks. That would hopefully help both he and Steve recover a bit faster.

"So," Tony said once Peter had finished polishing off three servings of Sam's homemade gumbo and drank about a litre of Powerade. "You feel like telling us why you felt the need to go after Toomes' lackeys all by yourself?"

Peter's already pale cheeks paled even more as he fiddled with his polar bear's ear, his lower lip trembling.

"I thought—I thought that I could stop them," he said softly, his eyes trained on his feet poking out of his blankets. "You guys have been so twitchy about everything lately with all the government stuff and everything else, and when I heard what was gonna happen, I just thought—" He paused, turning to look Tony straight in the eye. "I just wanted to be like you. Like you and Papa."

His words hit Tony straight in the chest, stealing his breath.

_Oh God, Pete, I don't want you to be like me._

Tony glanced up, briefly catching Steve's eyes over Peter's head and seeing exactly what he was thinking reflected right back at him.

_We don't want you to be like us, Peter. We want you to be better._

Sighing, Tony drew Peter into a gentle hug, kissing the top of his head. "Pete—"

"No," Peter interrupted. "I know what you're gonna say, but you're wrong, so I'm not gonna listen to it."

"Peter, that's not being respectful," Steve said in his Captain's voice. "It doesn't matter how smart you are or how strong you've become, you're still a child—"

"I'm not a child, Papa," Peter said, rather petulantly. "I'm a teenager."

"Okay, now we're just splitting hairs," Tony said. "Regardless of the wording used, you're under eighteen and therefore still under our care. And while you're still under our care, Papa and I are going to expect you to follow the rules that we set down, which may I remind you are there because we love you and want you to be safe." He paused, cupping Peter's face in his hands and silently begging him to understand. "Pete, you could've been _killed_ out there! And if you die, that's gonna be on me and Papa, and I can tell you right now and with absolute certainty that neither one of us would ever be able to recover from it. Not _ever._"

"Dad—"

"And you know we're gonna have to take the suit away now, right?" Steve added. "We can't have you being tempted to go off by yourself like that again, Peter, we just can't."

About a hundred different emotions all crossed Peter's face at once, and he scowled, shaking his head.

"The suit's wrecked now anyway, isn't it? You sure saw to that," he grumbled. "Can I go to sleep now?"

Tony huffed as he nodded, quirking an eyebrow at Steve. "Yeah, okay bud. Go on and brush your teeth."

"Uh huh."

Steve reached for Tony's hand as soon as Peter was out of earshot, his face etched in worry. "Tony, he's acting like he has to prove something to someone."

"Yeah, well, he is my kid," Tony muttered. "Can't say I'm too shocked."

Steve's eyebrows knitted together over his bruised, bloodshot eyes, prompting Tony to squeeze his hand. "Sorry, hon, I shouldn't've said that."

"No, it's okay," Steve said. "You and Peter are more alike than either of you realise, and that includes both the good and some of the more frustrating traits." His full lips curled into a smirk, that little half-smile that he reserved only for Tony. "It's endearing most of the time."

Tony scoffed. "Most of the time? What about the rest?"

"The rest of the time it's just frustrating," Steve answered matter-of-factly. "And I just try and deal with it, just like any other husband or parent would." He looked down at Tony's hand, tracing his wedding ring with his thumb as his blue eyes filled with tears. "But we need to figure out what to do about this, 'cause we can't let Peter do that again, Tony, we just can't, and it's not just because we can't let him be Spider-Man while he's still a child. I'm afraid—I'm afraid if something like what happened happens again, that we won't be able to get him back. That we'll lose him, and—"

He broke off, but Tony caught his unspoken words anyway. "_We'll lose him, and we won't be able to survive."_

"We're not gonna let that happen, Steve," Tony said. "We'll protect him."

"Yes, we will," Steve agreed. "But how? The other people from that list are probably still out there, and one of them manages to get his hands on Peter again, then—"

"I know, Steve, okay?" Tony snapped, instantly regretting his harsh words when Steve's face fell. "Jesus, honey, I didn't mean—"

"I know you didn't," Steve said softly. "But I meant what I said. I'm scared, Tony. I'm scared that if this happens again, we won't be able to get Peter back. I know how strong he is, but no one's unbreakable."

Tony tilted his head, eyeing his poor husband who looked like he just went ten rounds with his own shield as Peter emerged from the bathroom and climbed back onto the bed, burrowing down into his blankets. Tony and Steve took their respective places on either side of him, with Steve's fingers weaving into Tony's hair and pressing into his scalp.

"Goodnight, little guy," Steve said as he kissed Peter's forehead. "Sleep tight."

"Uh huh. 'Night, Dad."

"Goodnight, buddy."

Tony didn't know if it was the pain from Steve's healing nose or the fact that he hadn't slept for over three days, but he was out cold only about three minutes after Peter, his breathing a bit ragged but otherwise steady and even. Tony, however, remained wide awake, his mind running through various calculations and permutations as he tried to make sense of everything that had happened since they had dropped Peter off at that party.

Because as much as he hated to admit it, Steve was probably right. Bucky had spoken to Sam about those trigger words during some of his initial therapy sessions and had explicitly warned him never to use the words in sequence out of fear that they would trigger Bucky's HYDRA programming, and his mind would once again be lost.

And while Tony knew that whatever that water monster had tried to unleash in Peter by chanting those words had been unsuccessful, that didn't mean that it would be the next time.

Which meant that Tony needed to find a way to make sure there wasn't a next time, and he needed to do it as soon as possible, while the odds were still tipped in their favour. Because while he knew that Toomes' arrest would buy them a small amount of good will, the Avengers' were still on the shit list of a vast majority of the newly elected politicians, and Tony had a strong feeling that they were looking for any possible excuse to go after them.

And until the mission was completed, that was just unacceptable.

* * *

_**I can't wait to see what you think! Please don't hesitate to leave me a review! :)**_


	8. Chapter 8

_He was so exhausted, more exhausted than he could ever remember being in his entire life, even during the most difficult HYDRA raids during the war, when the seemingly unending fatigue had made him so loopy that some days he felt like he could literally smell colours._

_And then there was the pain. Searing, excruciating pain that left him gasping for breath, his entire body screaming for relief from the nearly constant blows being landed by his assailant, who while slight in build was unnaturally fast and strong, able to dodge Steve's attempted punches and kicks so easily that he seemed almost feeble._

"_Please," he said, grunting as he was kicked hard in the chin, snapping his head back and knocking him onto the hard, blood-spattered cement. He wasn't in uniform, yet another thing that was throwing him off, and his threadbare clothes were plastered to his skin with sweat and blood. The surrounding air smelled dank and stale, burning his lungs with every gasping breath, reminding him of his youth when taking a true, deep breath was a luxury that he could only dream of._

_A hand curled around the back of his neck, the man in black yanking him back up to his feet just in time to land three consecutive blows to his abdomen, the audible snap of his ribs breaking echoing throughout the dim, windowless room. Steve coughed, doubling over as a mouthful of blood splattered across the cold, grey floor, his arms instinctively wrapping around his front in a sorry attempt to shield himself._

_It's just a test, he thought, as if the thought would somehow help him. It's only a test. This isn't a real battle._

_But then again, if it wasn't real, then why did it hurt so damn much? And why was he alone? Where was Tony, and the rest of the team?_

_Gritting his teeth, Steve bit back a groan of agony as he got to his feet yet again, forcing himself to stand up straight against the shooting pain in his ribs. _

"_Please!" he gasped. "You don't have to do this!"_

_But the man only shook his head, covered in a pitch-black mask to match the rest of his uniform._

"_Yes, I do," he replied, so completely devoid of emotion that Steve's blood turned to ice in his veins. "You're my mission."_

_He lunged at Steve again, with Steve barely able to block his kick with his forearm only to pay for it a second later when the man punched him square in the jaw. Blood flew from Steve's mouth as he was knocked off-balance, scrabbling for a handhold as he headed for the floor and managing to grab onto the front of the man's mask, tearing it from his face as he crumpled into a heap on the cement._

_It took at least three heartbeats for them both to realise what Steve had done. Choking and coughing, Steve raised his head, blinking his swollen eyes in shock and disbelief as the man's face came into focus, staring down at him with the most murderous, bone-chilling expression that Steve had ever seen, one that took his heart and shattered it into a million tiny little pieces._

_Oh God, please, no! How is this possible?_

"_Peter?" he said, the word tearing from his throat like a jagged blade as he tipped backwards. His entire body began to shake, the roar of blood rushing past his ears almost deafening in the otherwise quiet room._

"_Peter?" he said again, thinking that maybe if he said it enough, it could maybe cease to be true._

_But Peter only shook his head, his upper lip curling into a sneer that reminded him so much of Tony that Steve let out a cry of anguish as he was yanked back to his feet, nose to nose with the boy that Steve only knew as his son, but who obviously wasn't._

"_Who the hell is Peter?"_

"No!" Steve shrieked as he bolted upright in bed, the tattered remains of the bedsheets clutched in his white-knuckled fists. Air whooshed from his lungs as his eyes flitted around the dimly lit room, trying to regain his bearings, his heart thudding so madly it was as though it was trying to escape from his chest.

"Oh God," he gasped, shivering as he broke out into a cold sweat. He reached blindly for Tony's pillow, hugging it to his chest and burying his nose in it, allowing the comforting scent of his husband to wash over him, driving away the madness. He could still feel the excruciating pain in his broken bones, still see Peter's face as he sneered at him, his beautiful brown eyes completely blank, not knowing who Steve was, who _he _was…

_It was just a dream. It was only a dream. Only a dream, only a dream, only a—_

"Captain Rogers?" JARVIS suddenly said, startling Steve. "Are you requiring any assistance?"

"Where's Peter?" Steve gasped. "JARVIS? Is he—is he okay?"

"Master Peter is currently sleeping comfortably, Captain," JARVIS said gently. "However, I am afraid that I cannot say the same for you."

Steve huffed, his shoulders sagging as he burrowed even further into Tony's pillow, holding his breath until his lungs started to burn and he couldn't hold it any longer.

Peter was okay. He was just down the hall in his bedroom, sleeping comfortably.

Or at least, he was for the moment. Ever since the water monster attack, Peter's nightmares had been flaring as well, with one of his most recent escalating so badly that he and Tony ended up having to summon Bucky to help contain him. Steve had been a nearly inconsolable mess once they finally got Peter calmed down and back into bed, to the point where Tony threatened to call Sam to come up and talk to him, only backing down when Steve refused to stop begging him not to.

"I'm fine, JARVIS," he finally said. "I just—I just—"

"Forgive me if I am being presumptuous, Captain, but I do not believe that screaming in your sleep and destroying yet another set of bed linens would qualify as 'fine'," said JARVIS. "In fact, if it were Mr Stark displaying such alarming behaviour, I do believe that you would encourage him to seek help, as you have encouraged Master Peter to seek help."

Steve scowled, his hands clenched into such tight fists that his fingernails were digging into his skin, leaving behind little half moon-shaped indents in his palms.

"I'll be fine, JARVIS," he muttered as he swung his legs over the side of the bed and grabbed the headboard to get to his feet. He was still shivering, still shaking even harder than he had after he'd been immersed in the ice. "I'm just… gonna take a shower, and then go and check on Peter, and then—"

"Mr Stark's current location is his laboratory, Captain," JARVIS finished, anticipating Steve's next question. "Shall I tell him when to expect you?"

"No!" Steve said, far too emphatically, he realised after the fact. "I mean, no, thanks. I don't want to bother him if he's busy."

"As you wish, Captain."

Stepping into the shower, Steve turned up the water as hot as it would go, trying to chase away all of the ice crystals coursing through his veins. He squeezed his eyes closed as the burning hot droplets pelted his skin like a thousand tiny pokers, trying to rid his mind of the image of his son, his beloved boy, not knowing who he was as he beat him senseless.

The recurring nightmares about drowning and being trapped in ice had been bad enough, but _that… _that was a whole new level of horror, and Steve just wanted it _gone_. Wanted it burned away from his memory, turned to ash so he never had to deal with it again.

He remained there for over an hour, until the water started to run cold and his skin was screaming in protest. Avoiding the mirror, Steve carefully toweled himself off and threw on some clean pyjama pants and a t-shirt before making up the bed with fresh sheets, tossing yet another set of torn bedding into the trash.

Padding down the hallway, Steve poked his head around Peter's slightly open door, breathing a slight sigh of relief when he saw that he was in fact sleeping peacefully. A lump rose in Steve's throat as he watched the steady rise and fall of Peter's chest and the relaxed line of his shoulders, such a sharp contrast to the rigid, hands-tightly-clenched position that he often assumed right before the nightmares hit, progressing only seconds later to screaming and thrashing and flailing, and all the while ripping Steve and Tony's hearts to shreds.

Following his usual routine, Steve headed next for the kitchen. He debated on making something light to eat, knowing that Tony hadn't eaten anything since dinner either, but eventually decided against it. He wasn't hungry in the least, the nightmare having completely stolen his appetite, so he instead prepared a fresh pot of coffee, pouring two large mugs to bring into Tony's lab, adding a bit of cream and sugar to his. He wasn't as big a fan of coffee as Tony, and especially not of the strong, black stuff that Tony constantly drank, but he also wasn't interested in trying to sleep anymore that night unless Tony was with him, so he figured the caffeine might be helpful.

Steve stepped into the lab to find Tony surrounded by several holographic projections of varying shapes and sizes, a few that resembled the security drones stationed at various points around the Tower, and others that looked a bit different, more mechanised. He was obviously engrossed in his work, not noticing Steve's presence until he set the coffee cups down on the counter, his eyes going wide as they swept across him.

"Christ, babe, what the hell happened to you?" Tony demanded, his face etched in concern. "You look like you just took a nap on the surface of the sun!"

"Huh?" Steve said, hissing as Tony cupped his cheeks with his calloused hands, inspecting the skin of his face and neck.

"You're as pink as a Maine lobster, honey," he said. "What the hell happened?"

Shame washed through Steve like a flood as he glanced over Tony's shoulder, avoiding his eyes. All of his skin prickled like he'd been sunburned, but he hadn't thought it was all that bad until he saw Tony's reaction.

All he'd wanted was to burn those images from his mind, to burn the ice away.

"I—I just… took a shower," he murmured.

"A shower? Jesus, Steve, how hot was the goddamn water? You look like you washed yourself with sandpaper!" Tony's eyes narrowed when Steve didn't answer, and he let out a heavy sigh. "We're you dreaming about the ice again? Is that it?"

"No, not exactly," Steve whispered, biting down hard on his bottom lip. "It was—oh God, it was even worse than that! It was—it was—"

Tony's fingers brushed across Steve's lips, his eyebrows knitting into an even deeper frown. "All right, so, do you want to talk about it? 'Cause that's probably a better idea than trying to burn off your skin, don't ya think?"

"Yeah, maybe," muttered Steve as Tony took his hand, leading him through the maze of holograms over to the couch.

"Okay, so…?" Tony prompted once they were seated. Steve could tell that he was frustrated and trying to hide it. He had been bugging Steve to talk with Sam ever since the water monster attack, and then even more so after Peter's horrible nightmare, but Steve kept insisting that he was fine, that he could handle things on his own, just like he always had.

"Steve?" Tony said, tugging on Steve's hand when he didn't answer. "I may be a lot of things, but I'm not exactly telepathic. Or at least not yet."

Steve shook his head, his eyes filling with tears as he fiddled with Tony's fingers in his lap. "Tony, it was—it was… oh God, it was _Peter!_ It was Peter, but then it wasn't really him, it was him as a Winter Soldier, and—he was—well… I was alone, and he had me prisoner, and he was beating the hell out of me, is what he was doing, it was some kind of test or something…" He looked up, meeting Tony's worried eyes. "It was one of the scariest things I've ever seen. Almost as bad as seeing you lying on that hospital bed with your chest gaping open, and I guess… I just want those images _gone._ I just want them erased from my mind, but they just won't go away!"

"Yeah, yeah, okay honey," Tony said quickly. He brought Steve's hand to his lips and kissed it, the scratch of his facial hair against Steve's scorched skin causing him to flinch. "That's a new one, isn't it?"

"Yeah. I've never had it before, or at least, not that I can remember." He dropped his forehead against Tony's shoulder as his arms slipped around his waist, tugging him closer so he could feel Tony's heart beating against him. Being close to Tony could always chase the demons away, if only for a little while, and Steve needed him now.

"And so… you decided to try and burn off your skin?" Tony said warily, backing away when Steve tried to kiss him.

"No," Steve answered, probably a bit too defensively when Tony quirked a questioning eyebrow. "I just… I just… please, do we have to keep talking about it? Can't we just—"

He leaned in to try and kiss Tony again, only for him to stop him with a firm palm to his chest.

"Hold on, hon, just wait, okay? I think we do need to talk about this. I mean it, 'cause babe, you don't look so good, and—"

"But—but," Steve sputtered. He couldn't understand why Tony was making it so difficult. "I'll be fine, Tony. I'm just a bit rattled, so I thought if we—"

Tony tilted his head, pursing his lips. "I'd say you're more than just a bit rattled if you're pulling stuff like this now."

"Stuff like what? I'm not—I don't understand?"

"And that right there is exactly the problem, Steve! You don't understand! You can't see what you're doing to yourself, but I can, and honey, it's not good! And it just keeps getting worse!"

"It's not getting worse!" Steve shouted, his heart lurching when Tony jumped. The absolute last thing he wanted was for Tony to be afraid of him. "Oh God, I'm so sorry, sweetheart, I didn't mean to yell like that… I just… can't we go to bed? Please? I need you, can't we just—"

But Tony only shook his head, his brown eyes tormented behind their long eyelashes, like he was in pain. "JARVIS?" he said, clearing his throat. "Can you call Sam up here, please?"

"Very good, sir."

Steve's heart immediately jumped into his throat. "What? Tony, no, _please_, don't do that! It's the middle of the night, and—"

"Yeah, well, that's just too damn bad now, isn't it," Tony said with a scowl. "'Cause I've been begging you and begging you to talk to Sam for who knows how long, and if you'd've just listened to me then we could've done this during the daylight hours like normal people. But since you're just too goddamn stubborn to see things for how they are, then I guess we're gonna have to do it now."

"No, no, no!" Steve yelped. "JARVIS, cancel that! Tell Sam it was a mistake, that—!"

"I'm afraid it's too late, Captain," JARVIS said, so smugly that Steve gritted his teeth. "Mr Wilson reports that he will be up shortly."

"Tony, please!" Steve pleaded as he reached again for Tony's waist. "Please, why can't we just go back to bed? I think if we just—"

"Just what, Steve?" Tony asked as his hands wrapped around Steve's wrists, halting him. "You think we should just go have sex so you can try and forget about everything again? Yeah, and how's that been working out for you, huh?"

Steve's jaw clenched as he looked away, biting his lower lip as about a hundred different emotions bounced across his mind. "What, so you think I've just been using you? Tony, I _love _you! You're my _husband,_ how can you think that?"

Tony was quiet for several seconds, until Steve glanced towards him. "I know you love me, honey," he said quietly. He reached for Steve's hand, cradling it between his own. "But I also know what it's like to try and forget about some really shitty things in some not-so-healthy ways, and… I don't think the two necessarily have to be mutually exclusive. It's just… more convenient like this, and I've enabled you long enough. It's got to stop."

Steve let out a frustrated growl, yanking his hand from Tony's grasp and jumping to his feet. He raked his hands through his hair, cringing at the scratch of his fingernails on his sensitive scalp. _I'm fine, I'm fine, I don't need to talk to anyone, I just need—_

"Mr Wilson has arrived in the penthouse, sir," JARVIS said, causing Steve's belly to drop to his knees. Sam walked into the lab about three seconds later, his eyes going wide as they swept across Steve.

"All right," he said as he plunked himself down onto the couch, opposite from Tony. "So, who wants to go first?"

Steve huffed as he paced back and forth, his thumbs hooked into his waistband. "Look, Sam, I'm really sorry that we called you up here, but—"

He was cut off by Sam's hand on his elbow, gently but firmly guiding him to sit down. "Sorry, Steve, but I'm not gonna buy that one tonight," he said, shaking his head. His eyes flicked over to Tony, who gave a brief nod and left the room. Sam watched him go, then leaned back against the couch, crossing his legs. "Now, you look like you've had a bit of a rough night, so why don't we just get started, okay?"

Several minutes of silence passed, with Steve almost wishing for another alien attack or something so he wouldn't have to deal with any of it, and Sam waiting patiently like he always did, not pushing too hard, the no-nonsense look on his face that meant he wasn't going to let Steve get away with any of his avoidance tactics yet again.

Finally, he spoke up, so softly he was surprised that Sam even heard him.

"I'm—I'm scared," he said, rubbing at his nose. "And I'm so tired of being scared, but… I guess I can't seem to stop and…"

"All right, that's a good start," said Sam. "Now, what exactly are you scared of?"

"Losing my family," Steve said quickly, squeezing his eyes closed when the tears threatened to fall. "Growing up, I never thought I'd—I was always so sick and weak, and I thought I'd die before… and then afterwards, in my time it wasn't—wasn't allowed, so… And now, I have—I have this amazing husband and an incredible son, everything that I never thought I could have, and I love them both so much, but then I almost _lost_ them, and I don't think—I _know_ I wouldn't be able to survive, not without them, so…" He paused, scrubbing at his eyes with his palm. "I was so used to being alone, to handling everything on my own, but now… now I know I couldn't live without them. I just couldn't. And after Miami, and everything that's been happening lately, it's just… it's like someone's trying to tell me that I don't deserve them or something, and I just—"

"It's okay, Steve," Sam said gently. "We can work with this."

"Yeah?" said Steve, sniffing. "I mean, it's just silly, right? I shouldn't be so—"

"Shouldn't be so… what, anxious?" asked Sam. "Why not? You think you're the first person who's told me stuff like this?"

That caused Steve to snap his head up, his eyes narrowing. "You mean that I'm not?"

"Oh hell no," replied Sam. "I mean, well, yeah, there are certain parts of your story that are pretty unique, I'll give you that. But the rest? Nah. I've heard it all before, man, at least a dozen times. Have you forgotten what I used to do before you dragged me into this whole Avenging gig?"

Steve shook his head. "No, of course I haven't. I just…"

"You just think you're the only one who's ever felt like this," Sam said with a knowing nod. "'Cause that's one of those things that no one ever likes to talk about when they're discussing PTSD. Or, post-battle stress, I guess that's the term that you'd be familiar with."

"I've heard both the terms," Steve muttered.

"Ah huh. And?"

"And… what?" asked Steve.

Sam gave a shrug. "And, what do you think?"

_I think I'd rather just go back to bed,_ Steve thought, but forced himself to answer anyway.

"I think… men who admitted that they were scared got called chicken shits," he muttered. "And I'm not, so—"

"No, you're not, and neither were they," Sam said firmly. "General Patton was just an asshole who didn't know any better."

"He was a brilliant strategist, but—"

"You can be that and still be an asshole, Steve," Sam cut in. "You're a damn brilliant strategist too, but I'd never call you an asshole. Stubborn as a mule, yeah. A bit on the cheeky side every now and then too, especially when you don't like to admit that I'm a better cook than you, but never an asshole. There's a big difference there."

"Well, at least there's that." Steve slumped back against the couch, wincing as the ribbed collar of his t-shirt rubbed against the raw skin of his neck. "I just don't see how this is supposed to help anything. I don't—I still feel like a live wire, ready to explode, and—"

"Well, for starters, just admitting the truth is a huge first step," said Sam. "Finally getting it out in the open instead of just letting it eat you up inside, especially when it's been going on for as long as it has, that's a big deal. And I don't think I have to tell you that Tony's been worried as hell about you, do I?"

Guilt hit Steve like a blast to the chest. Tony had enough of his own demons to deal with already, as well as Peter's. He didn't need any of Steve's adding to them.

But then again, Tony never could rest when someone he loved was in pain, and Steve had never been able to hide his pain from him, no matter how hard he tried. Pretty much ever since they met, Tony had always been able to see right through him.

"No. You don't."

"Good," said Sam as he raised his arms over his head, trying to stifle a yawn as he stretched. "'Cause I gotta say, it hasn't been easy on me to watch you like this either, and I don't even like you as much as Tony does, so…"

Steve's lips curled into the slightest of smiles. "No, I suppose you don't. It would take a very special person to put up with me."

"Yeah, and I'm pretty sure Tony's the only one who's up to that particular challenge," Sam said with wide eyes. "Now, that being said, how 'bout we schedule a regular time to talk a couple of times a week or so, yeah? Preferably during the daylight hours? Today's Wednesday, so say… Tuesdays and Thursdays after lunch?"

"All right," Steve said after a short pause. "I can—I can do that."

"Good. Now, why don't you head on back to bed, okay? I'm guessing there's someone there who might be waiting for you."

"Yeah," Steve said, his smile widening slightly. _At least, I hope so._

He and Sam got to their feet, with Sam clapping him carefully on the shoulder. "I'm not gonna tell you that everything's just gonna be okay, 'cause I can tell you for sure that it's not. This is something that's been with you for a long time, and it might take just as long to work through all of it. But as long as you're willing to make the effort, then we can eventually get it to a point where it's not completely dictating your life. All right?"

Steve breathed in a deep breath, letting it out slowly as he nodded. "Yeah. And thank you, Sam. I'm sorry that I—"

Sam cut him off with a raised hand. "Nope, we're not going there. I'll see you on Thursday, right? One o'clock?"

"One o'clock," Steve said. "And are we still on for our run in the morning?"

"Long as you're up for it," Sam said with a smirk. "And make me breakfast afterwards."

Steve grinned, almost involuntarily. He and Sam usually ate breakfast together after their runs, with Tony and Peter joining them most of the time as well before they brought Peter to school. Just another way to ensure that Tony ate something other than coffee every now and then.

As soon as the elevator doors closed behind Sam, Steve padded down the hall to Peter's room, poking his head around the door. He was still sleeping comfortably, his arms wrapped around his polar bear and his sweet face relaxed, with his bottom lip sticking out slightly. The sight of him was able to lighten Steve's heart just enough to make his footsteps back to his own bedroom seem a little less heavy.

And Sam was right; Tony was waiting for him when he got there, propped up on the bed with his tablet in one hand and the coffee Steve had brought him in the other. As soon as Steve stepped inside he set them both down, folding his hands into his lap as Steve tugged off his t-shirt and sat down next to him.

"Hey," Tony said quietly, and a lump rose in Steve's throat at his guarded tone. He supposed it couldn't have been easy for him to call Sam like he did, knowing that it would only make Steve upset.

"Hey," Steve whispered as the tears he'd been holding back finally welled up and spilled over, dripping onto his lap. He tentatively reached for Tony's hand, letting out a gasp of relief when Tony's fingers curled around his.

"I'm—I'm sorry, sweetheart. I'm so sorry. I'm—I'm just—I never meant to make you think that—I mean, you know how much I love you, and—I never, ever want you to think that I'd—that I would—"

"Steve, it's okay," Tony said dismissively. "You don't have to—"

"No, it's not okay, and I need you to understand this." Steve brought Tony's hand to his lips, kissing his finger over his wedding ring. "I love you, and if I've ever made you feel like all I'm doing is—is using you to help myself feel better, then that makes me a lousy husband, and—"

"Steve," Tony said, brushing his fingers across his lips. "Just… stop, okay? I shouldn't—I shouldn't've said that, and I—"

"But, you were right." Steve swallowed hard, choosing his next words carefully. "I can't—I can't do this on my own. Not anymore, so… Sam and I, we made a plan, and I'm gonna—I'm gonna try and work on this."

Tony breathed in, his face impassive even as his eyes turned glassy. "That's—that's good, Steve. That's really, really good, 'cause… damn, honey, I don't think I could've watched too much more of that, and not—"

Steve silenced him with a kiss, a soft, chaste kiss that nonetheless still caused warmth to spread across Steve's chest, especially when Tony's fingers burrowed into his hair to hold him in place. It was almost too much warmth, given the fact that his skin still felt like it was at least a hundred degrees.

"Hey," Tony whispered once they broke apart. "Do something for me, yeah?"

"Anything. I'll do anything you want, just tell me."

"Take off your pants and lie down on the bed," Tony said. "Face down."

Steve's eyebrows knitted together as he brought his hands to his waistband, untying the drawstring. "Um… okay, but I thought that—" He paused when he noticed Tony reaching for a light blue bottle on the bedside table, recognising it as the same cream that he had applied to Steve's sunburned skin on their honeymoon. "Oh. Sweetheart, you don't have to do that, it'll probably heal up on its own in a few hours, so—"

"Would you be opposed to me saying that I _want_ to?" Tony asked, rather cheekily. "That maybe I actually enjoy taking care of you when you're not too busy being a stubborn fool?"

Gulping, Steve shook his head. "No, I can't say that I'm opposed to having your hands running all over me. But—"

"Nothing else is gonna happen, so get that out of your head right now," Tony said sternly as he patted the bed next to him. "Just… c'mere, okay? There's no way you could sleep with your skin all raw and blistered to hell anyway."

"Yeah, okay," Steve murmured as he slid his pants off and laid down on the bed. He never wore underwear while sleeping, so laying there completely naked for almost an hour while Tony's glorious hands massaged the soothing cream into his sore skin and aching muscles was almost like the sweetest form of torture that he could imagine, but once Tony was finished and they were curled up in bed together, Steve couldn't deny that he felt about a hundred kilos lighter than he'd felt after his nightmare.

"I love you, sweetheart," he whispered into Tony's neck. "And I'm sorry."

Tony turned his head just enough to kiss the underside of Steve's jaw. "I know, honey. I love you too."

* * *

"And you are absolutely sure, Mr Stark, that now that this Adrian Toomes has been apprehended that the convoys are safe to proceed?" asked Senator Davis, his syrupy tone with just enough of an edge of condescension to be obvious causing Tony's fists to clench at his sides. "Because I don't believe it would be in anyone's best interests to have yet another attack take place."

Tony inhaled a deep breath through his nose before responding, trying to keep his blood pressure steady enough to finish the call without popping a vessel or something. They had been going round and round for over an hour, which was well past Tony's limit of being diplomatic with government idiots. Especially Senator Davis.

"I am sure that Adrian Toomes was involved in most, if not all of the diverted wreckage," Tony said evenly. "Now, as to where he stood in the chain of command that was involved in diverting the tech in the first place, we still don't know, as Mr Toomes is still refusing to talk. But what I can say is that all current Damage Control personnel have been re-vetted, and that the convoys should be able to proceed on schedule from both the D.C. and New York sites."

_There. Was that diplomatic enough, you asshole?_

"Yes, yes, I will be glad when all of that garbage has been finally removed from D.C.," said one of the other members, some Senator from Wyoming or something whose name escaped Tony at the moment. "It is such an eyesore in the middle of our beautiful capital."

"Mmm," Tony muttered under his breath. He bit back his retort that parts of New York were still trying to dig out from under all of the Chitauri junk, including some areas not too far from the Tower, but since the Triskelion was in D.C. it therefore had to have priority.

"But is it really necessary to have those… what do you call them? Those awful flying bodyguards actually following the convoys?" asked Senator Davis. "I mean, if we've already caught the perpetrator behind the thefts, then why do we still need them? They're not exactly what I would call attractive, and at this point I feel that they only serve to frighten people."

_Holy shit, he's an even bigger idiot than I gave him credit for, _Tony thought as he gave Senator Davis the same fake smile he reserved for reporters and other members of the press.

"Seeing as how they made Iron Legion Halloween costumes this past October, I'm not sure how you can say that people are frightened of them, Senator," Tony replied. "And to answer your question, yes, I do believe it is absolutely necessary to continue guarding the convoys. As I said earlier, I don't believe that Toomes was working alone, and until we're able to get him to talk and find out who else was involved, we can't be too careful."

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to agree with Mr Stark on that one, Senator," said one of the senators from Oregon, Tony couldn't remember her name at the moment either. "However, Mr Stark, is there no way to make your… Iron Legion, a bit less conspicuous? While I don't agree that they are frightening, I do feel that they send a rather… aggressive message, and one that could perhaps become misinterpreted as time goes on."

"Not at the moment, Senator," said Tony. "Creating something that's as effective as the Iron Legion isn't exactly something that can be done overnight. Or inexpensively, as I'm sure you're aware."

"Yes, well, we're all aware of the depth of your genius, Mr Stark, so I'm confident that you can come up with something more suitable to our needs," Senator Davis said, giving Tony a slimy smile that turned his stomach. "But for now I believe that is all, and thank you for your time."

Tony gave a curt nod as the various senators disappeared from his monitor, rolling his eyes once the screen finally went black.

"Goddamn idiots," he muttered under his breath as he called up the schematic of his latest suit, one he was planning to keep stored in the Stark Industries chopper in case of an emergency. He had already stored two suits in the SI jet, a spare one in the Quinjet, and was in the process of building another to keep in Steve's truck stowed under the passenger seat. With new villains literally popping up every couple of months he figured he couldn't be too careful, and Steve had agreed.

Unfortunately, his desire for expanding the range of the security drones to be able to cover both Peter's school and the route between it and the Tower had hit a rather frustrating roadblock, one that he hadn't yet figured out how to get around. As he had told Steve back in the beginning, the drones were basically a very hi-tech home security system, so stationing them around the Tower and Compound was perfectly fine.

Having them be mobile enough to follow Peter around, though, was a whole other thing. In order to cover the school from the Tower the drones would basically have to be in a low geosynchronous orbit to avoid being a hazard to aircraft, which could potentially slow their reaction time, or Tony would have to get permission from the city to station more units around the school, something he was very reluctant to do because it would require him revealing their existence to Senator Davis, and he really didn't want to do that unless it became absolutely necessary.

Especially given the current volatile political climate. President Cole had only technically been in office for less than three weeks, and Tony had already heard a few rumours about a legislation package in development that was planning to revive the previously shot-down anti-vigilante bill, only this time with new changes in wording that could be interpreted as labelling the Avengers themselves as vigilantes unless the team agreed to fall under the control of the government.

Which was something that both Tony and Steve had agreed would never happen, and especially not with the current government. Steve was already drawing far too many comparisons between President Cole and Hitler for Tony's comfort, and he was afraid that they had only scratched the surface so far.

Sighing, Tony scrubbed his palm down his face and reached for his coffee cup, grimacing when he realised it had already gone cold. He really needed to install a coffeemaker in the lab, and too damn bad if Steve thought it was a lousy idea.

"Everything look good here, J?" he asked as he expanded the left boot of the hologram, tweaking a couple of things on the ankle joint.

"It does, sir," answered JARVIS. "Shall I commence with the rendering once my diagnostics are complete?"

"Ah, that's a yes," Tony said as he tapped the hologram back into place. "Just remember to keep the schematics of the chopper handy when you're rendering, yeah? Don't wanna get it built and then realise it won't fit, 'cause that would just be embarrassing."

"I am insulted that you could possibly believe that I could even make such a grievous mistake, sir," JARVIS said, with such petulance that a sharp pang of nostalgia shot through Tony. He could just picture the look of disgust on Edwin Jarvis's face as he said the exact same thing.

"Nah, just giving you a hard time, J," he said with a chuckle. "Not like you'd actually make a mistake, right?"

"Hardly," said JARVIS. "Oh, and Captain Rogers reports that he and Mr Thor have retrieved Master Peter and are en route back to the Tower."

"'Bout time. Is Pete doing okay?"

"His vital signs are within his normal parameters, sir, aside from one small body temp dip down to thirty-two degrees while waiting for Captain Rogers and Mr Thor to arrive."

"Mmm. 'Cause he just had to wait for them outside again, didn't he?" Tony had been afraid that would happen since Steve had left a few minutes late to pick him up, trying to wait for Tony to finish his conference call. When it became clear that it wasn't going to happen, Steve had asked Thor to accompany him instead, something that Thor was only too happy to oblige, as he'd put it. Thor and Peter had been spending quite a bit of time together since Peter's recovery from the water monster attack, with Peter teaching him how to play chess and introducing him to hockey, a game Thor had already grown particularly fond of due to all of the in-game fights.

Thor also had taken to teasing Peter rather mercilessly about his friend Gwen, even going so far as to ask Peter what his intentions were the last time she was over, and then volunteering to speak to Chief Stacy on Peter's behalf when Peter ended up blushing and stammering too hard to answer.

And, as much as Tony liked to complain—good naturedly, at least—about how much Thor liked to eat and the occasional power surges when he was messing around with his hammer, he had to admit that having him around had been especially good for both Peter and Steve. Peter's nightmares had been pretty bad ever since the water monster incident, and hadn't been responding to any of their usual tricks until Thor volunteered to start sparring with Peter, hoping that it would help tire him out enough to sleep a bit better. Peter had been sparring with Steve from time to time before the incident at the lake, but ever since Steve's horrible dream of seeing Peter as a Winter Soldier he hadn't been able to bring himself to fight against Peter, even if it was only in training.

Thor had also been sparring quite a bit with Steve, which while it wasn't exactly enough to tire him out, it had at least helped to increase his self-confidence a bit in his hand-to-hand skills, something that Tony knew had been lacking ever since the Miami bunker battle.

Tony was just about done tweaking a couple of settings on the latest design of Natasha's Widow's Bites when JARVIS announced that the three of them had arrived, with Steve and Thor's heavy footsteps and Peter's lighter ones heading toward the lab a few seconds later.

"Hey buddy!" Tony said as Peter stepped inside, a wide smile stretched across his round face. "Have a good day?"

"Oh, Dad, I so wish you could've seen it!" Peter exclaimed as Steve and Thor came up behind him. "Ned and Gwen and I were all just standing around outside waiting for our rides when Flash came out, and he was trying to be all cool and stuff because apparently his dad just bought him a new phone, and he was trying to tell us that it was so much better than our StarkPhones because it can take panoramic videos, but when I tried to tell him that my phone can take panoramic videos too he called me an idiot and said that I didn't know anything about videos 'cause I never take any videos, which is just _wrong_, 'cause I take videos all the time, but anyway… That was right when Papa and Uncle Thor pulled up, so they both heard Flash call me an idiot but Flash didn't know that Uncle Thor was in the truck with Papa, and so then Uncle Thor got out of the truck, and he came right up to Flash, like right up into his personal space and stuff, and then he looked down at him all grim-like, and—" Peter paused to gulp a few breaths of air, still grinning widely. "And _then,_ Uncle Thor says to Flash, 'Pardon me, young Midgardian, but I daresay that I heard you call my friend Starkson here an idiot? Would you care to explain why you're referring to him in such an unnoble manner?' And of course Flash tried to say that he didn't, that Uncle Thor had just heard him wrong, and then Uncle Thor goes, 'It might not be a very good idea to insult my hearing right after you have insulted one of my closest friends.' And then, oh my gosh, Dad, you should've seen the look on Flash's face! He looked so nervous that I thought he was gonna pee his pants!"

"I'm not exactly positive that he didn't, little guy," Steve added, with an amused twinkle in his blue eyes that Tony hadn't seen in a long, long time. "He sure hurried to his car pretty fast after Thor asked him to apologise."

"Yes, well, if anyone thinks that he can insult my little Starkson here and get away with it, then he has another think coming, as I believe you Midgardians would say," Thor said, clapping Peter on the shoulder so hard that he would've driven him through the floor if he'd been just a normal kid. "Especially since I know that the StarkPhones are in fact far superior to any competitor currently on the market. Or at least that's what Banner tells me… I still don't quite understand the need for a phone, but, well, here we are." Thor let out a smile as he squeezed Peter's shoulder. "Now, Starkson, I do believe you did challenge me to another game of chess while the Captain here was transporting us back to our grand Tower?"

"Oh yeah, I did," said Peter. He gave Tony a sheepish look. "That okay? I know we were supposed to work some more on the repulsors later, but—"

"Nah, it's okay buddy," Tony said, ruffling Peter's hair. "As long as you do your homework after dinner."

"Uh huh," Peter said as he tugged on Thor's arm. "C'mon, Uncle Thor!"

Steve and Tony watched them go, with Steve wearing a rather bemused expression that Tony knew mirrored his own. "Been good for Pete having Thor around lately," he said. "Even if he can't understand why we don't use ravens as a method of communication."

Steve let out a chuckle as he curled his arm around Tony's shoulders, planting a quick kiss on his temple. "Yeah, it has. And I have to admit, it was kinda nice seeing that kid panic a bit when Thor got into his face. He hasn't been very nice to Peter."

"Yeah, that kid's had something like that coming for a long time, he's been a thorn in Pete's side ever since they were in kindergarten, and for some reason he's not all that scared of me," Tony said with a scowl. "When they were in fourth grade he even swiped one of Pete's inhalers once after their gym class, and then two days later Pete wound up in the hospital with pneumonia."

"Mmm," grumbled Steve. "Well, at least we don't have to worry about him catching pneumonia anymore."

"Yeah," scoffed Tony. "At least there's that." He tipped his head against Steve's shoulder, briefly closing his eyes when Steve kissed the top of his head.

"Conference call go okay?"

"Eh, pretty much the same old shit—I mean, nonsense," answered Tony. "Davis keeps pushing me to get rid of the Iron Legion 'cause he says it's scaring people, which is just a bunch of bullshit, and they're all still whining about the Triskelion mess not being done yet. I swear, if they would actually get their heads out of their asses every now and then and actually _do_ something instead of just complaining all the time, it'd probably be done by now."

"Well, politicians only like to complain and point fingers," said Steve. "It was like that when I was growing up, and I don't see it changing anytime soon."

Tony huffed out a sharp breath, burrowing further into Steve's side. "Yeah, well, I will be very glad when all this Damage Control stuff is over. I might even throw a party to celebrate."

"Or… we could go on a holiday," Steve said, and Tony's head snapped up in surprise, his eyes going wide as he tried to figure out if Steve was joking or not.

"You wanna take a vacation? Really? Mr If-We-Don't-Train-Everyday-Then We're-The-Ultimate-Slackers wants to take an actual vacation?"

Steve gave him one of his adorable _aw shucks _nods as he slipped both hands around his waist. "I've just been thinking… Peter has his school break coming up in about six weeks, so maybe it would be a good time for us to get away for a few days. I thought maybe we could go back to Italy? We've always said that we wanted to take him there sometime, and I know I wouldn't mind going back either, so… what do you think?"

"I think he'd love it," Tony murmured, his throat thick with suppressed emotion. Italy was where they had spent the first half of their honeymoon, and also the place where they had both managed to overcome their fear of the water, and Tony had no doubt that Steve was hoping for the same thing to happen again if they returned. "But are you sure that you're gonna be up for it? I mean, that villa we stayed in is right on the Mediterranean, honey, and—"

"I know," Steve said softly, his cheeks blushing an adorable shade of pink. "But the Mediterranean is clear and warm and sunny, nothing like the water that I was… frozen in." He didn't say frozen in _twice_, but Tony caught his underlying intent anyway. "I have some very fond memories of that place, sweetheart, and I was just thinking—"

"Well, I think it's an absolutely fantastic idea, so let's do it."

"Really?" Steve said excitedly. "I thought we could even invite the rest of the team if you want, it might actually help distract Peter a bit if we did… you know… so…"

"Oh I know, hot stuff," Tony said with a grin. He tipped his head up to kiss him, forcing himself to pull back so they couldn't get too carried away. "But right now I'm thinking that we've got about thirty minutes before that kid of ours decides that he's hungry, and you know what happens when he decides that he's hungry."

Steve smiled, that gorgeous, eye-crinkling, dimple-inducing smile that had been so rare lately that the sight of it almost brought tears to Tony's eyes. Why the hell hadn't _he _thought of going on a vacation?

"You're right," Steve said as he pecked Tony on the nose. "Don't really want him to start gnawing on the furniture, I don't think it'd taste very good."

"Nope, don't think so." He slid his hand down Steve's back to his ass and gave it a playful squeeze, smirking when Steve let out a soft growl. "You're a good man, Steve Rogers," he said. "And as soon as I can manage to kick you out of here to go make us dinner, I'm gonna call Pepper and tell her that we'll all be unavailable for that week."

Steve was quiet for a moment, his fingers tracing idle circles on Tony's back. "You know, way back on the night before I got the serum, Dr Erskine visited me in the barracks with a bottle of peach schnapps that he'd brought from home, asking if I was nervous. When I told him that I was, he poured us both a shot of the schnapps, but then took mine away before I could drink any of it because he said that I couldn't have any fluids before the procedure."

"Well, that wasn't very nice of him," Tony said. "A little nip might've helped take the edge off your nervousness a bit."

"Yeah, maybe. Back then all it would've taken was a single shot to pretty much get me plastered, but anyway… I ended up asking him why I had been chosen, since all of the other guys in the program were a lot bigger and stronger than I was."

"Yeah, but Erskine wasn't looking for the biggest or the strongest," Tony said with a dismissive shrug. "Or at least that's what Howard always said whenever he talked about it."

"Yeah, he did say that. But the two things he said that I remember the most, were that originally the Nazis had wanted his formula because Hitler was convinced that it could help them conquer the world, and that the reason he chose me was because he didn't want the perfect soldier, he just wanted a good man." Steve leaned back slightly, his blue eyes troubled. "It's been hard lately for me to think of myself as that same 'good man' that Dr Erskine chose to receive his formula, especially since all these villains that we've faced lately are likely the result of research that HYDRA conducted with my blood samples. It's like they're just spitting in Dr Erskine's face, and with how the political climate has been turning lately, I'm just—"

"Steve, honey," Tony interrupted, as patiently as he could. "How many times do I have to tell you that none of that stuff is your fault? Now, c'mon, I thought we were getting past this?"

"We are," Steve said, only semi-convincingly. "But even so, when you said that just now, that I was a good man, it just… it just made me think about it, and I hope—I just hope that you're right. I hope that whatever intentions Dr Erskine had with his serum, and with me, that they don't come back around and try and hurt you or our son again, because… Tony, I don't—I wouldn't be able to—"

"Okay, I want you to just stop, like right now, 'cause we're not going there again," said Tony. "Whatever's going on with these semi-enhanced… whatever-the-hell they are is not your fault. I know it, Pete knows it, and the rest of the team knows it. And you're not only a good man, you're the best person that I've ever known. And I'm a genius, so I know what I'm talking about."

Steve smiled, that soft smile that only Tony ever saw, his arms tightening around Tony's waist. "Thank you, sweetheart."

Tony's heart gave a painful lurch at Steve's overt sincerity, as if he still couldn't believe it. "Babe, you don't ever have to thank me for loving you. It's involuntary now. Like breathing."

"I know," Steve said as he cupped Tony's cheek, his thumb tracing softly along his cheekbone. "But I'm going to anyway." And then he dipped his head and kissed him, one of _those_ kisses that curled Tony's toes and left him whimpering.

"Damn, baby," Tony breathed once they broke apart. "It's too bad you have to go and cook now, huh?"

"Yeah," Steve whispered, his blue eyes darkened to navy. "But I was thinking, maybe tonight…"

"Oh, you know I love it when you think like that. It's a date." Tony pecked Steve's lips one final time, giving his ass another firm squeeze. "Now, get out of here before I go out there and try to convince Thor to make dinner for Pete, 'cause I'm pretty sure if he tried that we'd no longer have a kitchen afterwards."

"Or even a roof," Steve said with wide eyes. "Thor would probably try and light the stove with his hammer, and then—"

"Exactly," agreed Tony. "But once the kid goes to bed, you're all mine, _Captain,_ so be prepared."

"Hmm," Steve murmured. "Is that a threat or a promise?"

"Whichever one gets you naked, honey," Tony said as he playfully swatted Steve's ass. "Now, out!"

Tony watched as Steve sauntered away, resisting the strong urge to say the hell with dinner anyway and chase after him. While they hadn't exactly been celibate since that awful night when Steve tried to burn off his skin, Tony had been extra careful to avoid using sex as a crutch when Steve got particularly bad, instead calling Sam to help talk him down.

And Tony was so, so grateful for Sam. Like Rhodey had been for Tony all those years ago, and still was on occasion, Sam was a beacon for Steve, helping him through the troubled waters of years and years of suppressed trauma.

"JARVIS, is Pepper busy?" Tony said once Steve was out of sight.

"Ms Potts is currently in her office, sir, I will put you through."

"Thanks."

"Hey, Tony," Pepper said as soon as she appeared on the monitor. She looked just as elegant as ever, if not a bit more harried than usual. "What's going on?"

"Hey, Pep," Tony said fondly. "Just wanted to let you know that Steve and I will be taking Pete and the team to Italy during the week of Pete's spring break, so if the Board members feel like seeing my face they'll have to do it some other time. Oh, and I'll be sure to have the next round of tablet specs done before we leave, if that helps."

"Well, wow!" Pepper said with a surprised smile. "You guys are actually going on vacation? Not that I don't think it's a fantastic idea, I'm just really kind of surprised."

"Yeah, it was actually Steve's idea, so we're running with it."

"Okay, well, how 'bout I make you a trade offer?" said Pepper. "I've been going back and forth about even bugging you about this, but since you called—"

"You don't usually bug me about stuff that shouldn't be bugged," Tony said. "What's up?"

Pepper leaned back in her chair, letting out a heavy sigh. "Remember that R&D supervisor who I thought was slacking on his performance reviews? Quentin Beck?"

"Yeah, the name rings a bell," Tony said after a short pause. "Bad handwriting, right?"

"Yeah, that's him."

"What'd he do now?"

"Well… it's not so much what he did, it's just…" Pepper paused, tapping her pen against the desk. "He submitted a proposal for a new project a couple of weeks ago, and after I looked it over… I don't know, I had a couple of the other R&D supervisors look at it too, and they're not quite sure either, but it just seems—"

"Seems like what, Pep?"

"He's proposing to develop a new type of holographic system," said Pepper. "And while there's nothing inherently wrong with the basic premise of it, there's just some aspects of the proposal that I'd really appreciate your input on, if you don't mind."

"You know I don't mind," Tony said with a frown. "But I have to say, you seem particularly concerned about this, so… should I know why?"

Pepper shook her head, giving him a brief smile. "I think I'm still just a bit upset about the performance reviews, and I don't want to bias you until after you've read the proposal. When should I send it over?"

"Eh, now's fine, I got a few minutes," said Tony. "And if I see anything funky I'll just set up a quick meeting with Beck and go from there. Sound okay?"

"Yes. Yes, it does, thank you, Tony, I really appreciate it. And I'll be sure the Board doesn't disturb your team retreat. To a private, luxury villa in Italy. Yeah."

"Thanks, Pep. Don't know what I'd do without you."

"You'd be still running your own company," Pepper said with a sly grin. "And who knows where we'd all be then. I'll see ya later."

"Yeah, see ya."

The file containing Beck's proposal arrived about ten seconds after the monitor went blank, titled Illusion Technology: A Revolutionary Breakthrough with Limitless Applications. Tony smirked as he tapped it open, thinking that it was painfully obvious that Beck had gone to Stanford instead of Tony's alma mater of MIT. In Tony's experience, Stanford engineers had always had an extra flair for the dramatic.

"Okay, let's see here…" Tony said as he skimmed over the introduction, finally getting to the main part of the proposal.

_This technology will consist of a complex holographic system that connects directly with the user's hippocampus, allowing the user to influence the system simply through the normal thought process. I believe the applications for this kind of technology are truly limitless, and am prepared to proceed with immediate large-scale development._

Something about the description caught Tony's eye, but it wasn't until the third reread that he realised that it sounded an awful lot like the speech Aldrich Killian had given in his presentation for Aminacin, shortly before he broke into the Tower and kidnapped Peter.

"Connects directly with the user's hippocampus," Tony said under his breath. "Yeah, I'm not sure I'm too thrilled with this one either. JARVIS?"

"At your service, sir."

"Check on the calendar of Quentin Beck, one of the R&D supervisors. I need to set up a one-on-one with him regarding his holographic proposal."

"Very good, sir. Meeting is scheduled for a week next Tuesday, at 1pm."

"Week from Tuesday at one," Tony repeated. "That'll work, thanks, J."

"You are most welcome."

Closing the proposal, Tony turned his attention back to Natasha's equipment, tweaking settings here and there until the delicious smell of roasted garlic and Parmesan cheese started to waft into the lab from the kitchen, almost as though Steve was physically beckoning Tony to come out and eat.

"Always taking care of me," Tony murmured as he closed out his schematics and went around the lab, gathering up the six half-empty coffee cups that had gotten strewn about over the course of the day. He contemplated showing the proposal to Steve to get his opinion on it, but decided against it. Steve was doing so much better lately, Tony didn't dare do anything that might possibly set back that progress.

But later that night, after he and Steve practically pounced on each other as soon as they made it to their bedroom, spending almost two hours making love with an intensity they hadn't had in a long time, Tony laid there awake, holding his husband as he slept curled up next to him, his head resting on Tony's chest and Tony's fingers buried in his hair. It had been in the back of his mind for quite awhile that the fact that Peter and Steve had shared that brief empathic connection during the Miami bunker battle was perhaps part of the reason why their nightmares and flashbacks had been so much worse than his own since then. Bruce had treated them both with the Aminacin antidote, but they could still detect trace amounts of the drug in both of their systems, and in Bucky's as well, which had led Tony and Bruce to believe that there had to be a connection between the drug and their enhanced genes that he hadn't yet been able to figure out.

Unfortunately, figuring it out would likely require putting all three of them through a massive barrage of tests, which was something that Tony knew he could never bring himself to do. Steve still spoke bitterly about his time of being treated as a human lab rat following his serum procedure, and there was no way that Tony would ever make him go through something like that again. And Bucky had already been experimented on enough for three lifetimes, and Peter… well… that was just a hard no.

He would just have to figure it out some other way, and the sooner the better. The clock was ticking, and Tony had always hated the sound of ticking clocks.

Because to him, they always sounded way too much like a countdown.

* * *

_**I know we didn't hear too much from Peter in this chapter, and I do apologise. The next chapter will open with his POV and I do believe the wait will be worth it. :)**_

_**As always, I can't wait to hear what you think! Please don't hesitate to leave me a review! :)**_


	9. Chapter 9

_**As promised, this chapter opens with Peter's POV. I hope you enjoy!**_

_**I also wanted to take a moment to appreciate my wonderful Guest reviewer. Since you're a guest I can't personally respond to your reviews, but I wanted to let you know how much I appreciate them, and you! Thank you so very much!**_

* * *

Peter huffed as he stuffed his sweaty, stinky gym uniform into his backpack and zipped it closed, taking extra care to not yank too hard on the zipper. He was already on his sixth backpack of the school year, having torn his last one only the week before, and it was starting to get more than a little embarrassing. Especially since Gwen seemed to take notice every time he showed up at school with a new one.

He was so deep in his own thoughts as he swung the backpack over his shoulder and hurried out of the locker room that he didn't even see Gwen waiting for him outside the door until he had barrelled right into her.

"Whoa!" Peter exclaimed as his fingers curled around her arm, preventing her from hitting the floor. He immediately hauled her back to her feet, overcompensating enough that Gwen ended up planting her palms on his chest to prevent them both from tipping in the other direction.

Stunned, they both stood there for a few seconds, with Gwen's breath hot on Peter's neck and her nose nearly touching his chin, sending a shock of such intense warmth across Peter's chest and up his neck that for a moment he literally forgot how to speak, much less think. She was _so_ close, all he'd need to do is dip his head a bit, and—

"Uhh," he finally managed, realising just then that his hands had found their way to Gwen's waist, almost on their own accord, and had her eyes always been such a vibrant shade of green or was he only noticing them now, 'cause they were _gorgeous._ Papa would call them Irish-green, since his ma had had green eyes too.

He licked his lips, giving his head a hard shake. "Holy cow, Gwen, I'm _so _sorry! I didn't—I didn't see you there, and I—I wasn't paying attention, and I didn't—I didn't think you'd be…" He paused, tilting his head back a bit as his eyebrows knitted together in confusion. "Um… why were you standing outside the boys' locker room, exactly?"

Gwen's cheeks flushed that beautiful pink colour that Uncle Bucky always insisted meant that she like-liked Peter, and she gave him a rather shy smile, making no attempt to take her hands off of him. "Oh… um… I was just seeing if you were ready for lunch. Since Ned's out today, I wasn't sure if you'd remember where the lunchroom was."

Peter instinctively smiled, noticing that he hadn't bothered to move his hands from her waist, and the fact that it felt completely natural to have them there wasn't lost on him either. "Ha ha ha. Funnily enough, I actually do know where the lunchroom is, but I—I need to stop by my locker first and drop my backpack off."

"Well, all right then," Gwen said after a pause just long enough to be awkward. She cleared her throat, squeezing his shoulders slightly before stepping back. "Shall we?"

"We shall." Peter had to fight against the strong urge to offer Gwen his arm as they headed down the hallway, like Papa always did for Dad whenever they were out and about, especially in the winter when the sidewalks were icy. He would definitely have to remember to do that if he and Gwen were ever able to go out on a real date.

Which at the moment didn't seem like it would be anytime soon. Not surprisingly, ever since Liz's party and the disaster that followed, Dad and Papa had cracked down on Peter even more, even going so far as to station extra security guards around the school again and install new safeguards on his phone, alerting them if he so much as stepped a toe over their predetermined perimeter. At first he had been so angry with them for taking away his Spider-Man suit that he made the decision to not speak to them until they gave it back. Even though it had been destroyed beyond repair, Peter felt that as long as he still had the suit in his possession he could at least pretend that he was Spider-Man.

That had only lasted about half a day, however, and thanks to a couple of fierce scowls and a stern talking-to from Uncle Bucky, and another barrage of questions from Uncle Thor as to why JARVIS was having to relay every single question and answer between them, Peter decided to forgive his dads and attempt to move on.

But that didn't mean that the attempt had been completely successful, especially since Papa had thought it necessary to give Peter the very same lecture about teamwork that he'd given him before his first Avengers' training session, but then told him that he would no longer be allowed to train with the team until he and Dad thought Peter was ready again. And, when Peter asked when that might be, he said that they would just have to see.

_Which is just stupid, _Peter thought as he stuffed his backpack into his locker, slamming it closed. _How am I supposed to learn about teamwork if I don't actually get to work with the team?_

"What's wrong?" Gwen asked as they stepped into the lunchroom, her voice laced with concern. "Are you okay?"

"Huh?" Peter asked. "Uh, nothing's wrong. Why?"

"You're scowling," answered Gwen. She handed Peter a set of silverware, the slight brush of her fingers against his sending another shock of warmth shooting up his arm. "You almost look like you're in pain or something. You didn't get hurt in gym class, did you? 'Cause I did some reading about the recovery period from mono, and the book I read said that one of the possible complications from it is an enlarged spleen, and that you're supposed to avoid any contact sports until it can be ruled out, so I'm actually really surprised that your dads are even letting you go to gym class, 'cause if it's enlarged the risk is pretty high of it rupturing if you get hit in the abdomen, and I'm pretty sure that would freak everyone out if it happened at school. Not to mention that it'd probably be really painful, too."

Peter's eyebrows knitted together as he stared at Gwen, so long that one of the lunch ladies had to wave a milk carton in front of his face to get his attention. "Um… no, I'm pretty sure that my spleen is fine, Gwen, there's no need to worry about it. And I'm not in pain, I'm just… thinking."

Gwen snapped her mouth closed, giving him a quick nod as they took their usual seats at their corner table. "Oh. Well, it seems like you do that a lot."

"What, think?" Peter asked.

"Yeah," Gwen said as she bit off part of an apple slice. "You're usually daydreaming through most of our classes, and when you're not you're just pretending to take notes when you're really drawing schematics or something in your notebooks."

"Uhh," Peter stammered, his face flushing hot again. _How in the hell would she know—?_ "Yeah, I—I draw stuff in there sometimes, but… you sit in front of me in most of our classes, so… how do you know all of this? You got eyes in the back of your head or something?"

Gwen gave a shrug, smirking as she popped the rest of her apple into her mouth and reached for a French fry. "My dad says I have good instincts, says I get it from him, which is pretty important if you're a police officer." She leaned closer, whispering, "And he's always had eyes in the back of his head. He says that his instincts are one of the things he relies on the most for his work, so…"

_Yeah, I might know a thing or two about instincts._

"I see," said Peter, clearing his throat and attempting to take a sip of his milk. "So, you think you're gonna be a police officer when you grow up? Like your dad?"

Gwen's cheeks flushed even deeper as she fiddled with the corner of her napkin. "Um… no. I'd actually love to work for Stark Industries someday, as one of their scientists. I was thinking of applying for one of their summer internship positions since I'll turn sixteen in the spring, so…"

"Oh wow, really?" Peter exclaimed, briefly drawing the attention of the students at a nearby table. "I mean, really? That would be so awesome if you did! Would you want me to talk to my dad about it, I'm sure that I could—"

"No!" Gwen shrieked, shrinking down a bit when the other students shot sharp glares in her direction. "I mean, no, thank you. I don't—I wouldn't want anyone to think that I—I mean, that I got special treatment or something. You know… 'cause we're—we're… friends, and stuff. Yeah."

Peter's heart gave a quick lurch at the word 'friends', briefly wondering if Uncle Bucky was wrong and he had just been misreading Gwen's signals the whole time when Gwen glanced up at him through her beautiful long eyelashes, and his stomach did that flipping thing it often did whenever she looked at him.

Just 'friends' had never caused Peter's stomach to flip like that before, so…

_If only we could go on a real date sometime!_ Maybe he would be a bit more courageous once they were out from under his dads'—and JARVIS's—eyes, and he could just flat-out ask Gwen how she felt about him.

Well… then again… maybe not.

"Yeah, okay," Peter said. "But if you change your mind, I definitely don't mind talking to my dad about it. I'm sure he'd be thrilled to have such an intelligent intern on his staff."

Gwen gave him _that_ smile that never failed to twist his insides. "Thanks," she said softly as she took a sip of her milk. "I'm still trying to convince my dad to let me even apply, so… I guess we'll see."

"Oh?" asked Peter, fighting against the urge to scowl. "Why doesn't your dad want you to apply? Stark Industries is one of the best tech companies in the world and it's practically in your backyard, so… what's the problem?"

Shrugging, Gwen popped another apple into her mouth, chewing it slowly. "It's not that my dad doesn't like the company or anything. I mean, his own officers use a lot of Stark Industries equipment, and I know your father sells it to them at very reasonable prices, probably lower than he should, really. It's just…"

"He doesn't trust them," Peter said. "My dads, he doesn't trust them because they're Avengers. Isn't that it?"

"No, I don't think it's quite that either," Gwen said with a huff. "It's more like… I'm not sure he knows what to think, actually. On the one hand, he's just a normal guy, a police officer in charge of trying to keep the Midtown precinct a safe place, and he's really good at what he does. His officers are loyal, they never have anything but good things to say about him, and his percentage of cops that turn dirty is the lowest in the entire state and has been for years." She paused, tapping her fingers on her lunch tray. "I think part of it is that he's envious. 'Cause I mean, he is just a normal police chief running a precinct that also houses the Avengers—"

"Not like we can do anything about it," Peter grumbled. "And we were here first anyway, so…"

"Oh, I know that," replied Gwen. "And he knows it too, but… there's also the survivor's guilt that he carries. He lost one of his longtime partners during the alien invasion, in the same bank where Captain America saved all those people that were trapped inside, so… it's probably irrational, but I think there's a part of him that wonders why your papa couldn't save his partner, too."

A lump rose in Peter's throat, and he grabbed his milk, draining the rest of the carton in three large gulps as he tried to come up with a response that didn't sound too snarky. Peter had heard plenty about survivor's guilt from not only Papa, but Uncle James and Uncle Sam as well, so he knew it was a real, legitimate thing, but it still irritated him that someone could be so quick to judge his papa for something that wasn't his fault and that he had no control over.

"If you knew my papa at all you would know that he tried everything he could to save as many people as possible on that day, and that he's felt guilty every single day since then that he couldn't do more," he said quietly. "Papa always says that in his line of work he tries to save as many people as he can, and that sometimes they can't always save everyone, but deep down it eats away at him so much that he can't. So maybe the next time your father starts ranting about the Avengers and how it's their fault that the aliens came in the first place, you can tell him that."

Gwen frowned, tilting her head. "There's no need to get defensive with me, Peter, 'cause I already know all this. I'm just relaying information here, okay? I know the only real interaction you've had with my father was at that one dinner, but—"

Peter let out an involuntary shudder at the memory of _that_ dinner, the one that had started with him getting basically interrogated by Chief Stacy and ended with him puking and writhing in pain from eating a piece of peppermint cake.

"I'd really rather not talk about that dinner, if it's okay," he muttered, shoving a French fry into his mouth.

"Yeah, okay, but I'm just trying to tell you that my father's not really like that," Gwen insisted. "He's just trying to do his job, and… I don't know, I guess he kinda felt threatened by you, is all."

Peter's head snapped up in surprise. "He felt threatened by me? Why?"

Once again Gwen's cheeks flushed that deep pink colour, and she looked down at her tray. "Well, you're the first boy I've ever had over to the house, so… I think part of it was Dad just trying to scare you a bit. Seeing if you were… worthy of me or something."

"Oh," Peter said, feeling like a fool as realisation dawned. Uncle Bucky had said something very similar to him not too long after that fateful dinner, and Peter had just brushed it off as yet another one of his old-fashioned ideas on courtship. But maybe… if he'd been right all along, that might mean…

"Oh," he said again, a bit louder this time. "I guess… I guess I hadn't thought about it like that."

"No, I didn't figure you had," Gwen said warily. "For someone who's as smart as you are, you can be kinda thick sometimes."

Peter gave a quick nod, clearing his throat. "Yeah, I've—I've heard that before."

There was a pause for a couple minutes while they both picked at their food, until Gwen spoke up again. "So, I found out some more stuff about Liz's dad, if you're interested."

"You did?" Peter exclaimed through a mouthful of chicken tender. "How? The FBI agent in charge of his case won't even tell my dad hardly anything, and he's the one who tipped them off!"

"My dad has a few friends at the Bureau," Gwen said, her face falling a second later. "And also because there's circumstantial evidence that the Spider-Man had contact with Toomes shortly before he was arrested, so… as soon as my dad heard about that he pounced on it."

All the air whooshed from Peter's lungs in one fell swoop, and he had to physically stop himself from gasping out loud. Of _course_ there had to have been _someone_ who'd just happened to look out their window while he was stuck sliding behind the runaway weapons van and bouncing off trash cans, 'cause, why the hell _not?_

_Geez. No wonder they took my suit away._

"Oh," Peter squeaked, gripping the edge of the table so tightly that he heard the wood start to crack. "But… Liz's neighbourhood isn't even in the Midtown precinct, so why would your dad be involved?"

Gwen bit her lip, leaning in closer. "If you want my honest opinion, I think it's because my dad's been having second thoughts about how he feels about the Spider-Man. You wouldn't know since you haven't been over in a few months, but my little brothers still talk about him constantly, and so do all of their school friends. They all thought he was someone they could look up to, and maybe relate to a bit since it seemed like he was a lot younger than the rest of the Avengers. And they've all been pretty bummed ever since he disappeared."

Slowly, Peter released his grip on the table, flexing his stiff fingers. "Um… well, that's a bit surprising I guess, seeing as how adamant he was that the Spider-Man was some kind of menace to society."

"Oh, I don't think he ever really thought that," Gwen said with a soft laugh. "Not really. I think maybe part of it was he was still pretty new to the precinct back then and still trying to establish his authority. But anyway—"

"You said you had news about Liz's dad?" Peter cut in.

"Oh, yeah. Apparently he's being moved to some super-secret holding facility sometime in the next few days, somewhere that's only accessible by helicopter or something, based on what my dad says. And he's still refusing to talk, so, whatever he was involved in is probably a lot bigger than people first thought."

"Okay," Peter said slowly. "And has there been any progress on finding out who else was involved?"

"No, which is one of the main reasons why he's being moved," said Gwen. "The FBI thinks he's still too paranoid about his bosses getting to him or to his family if he talks, so they're hoping by moving him to this different place it'll make him feel more secure. That's also why we don't know where Liz and her mom went, they're like in witness protection or something now. It's really just a huge mess."

_Yeah, well, maybe Mr Toomes should've thought of that before he turned criminal, _Peter thought bitterly. Liz was his friend, and it hurt him to think of her being alone and afraid in some strange place and having to pretend to be someone else, with only her mother knowing who she really was.

"Yeah, that is a pretty big mess," Peter agreed, just as the bell rang to signal the end of the lunch period, the shrill noise causing him to jump. He was usually able to brace himself in time, but apparently today he'd been too distracted.

"So, on to history?" Gwen asked as she gathered up her tray.

"Yep," Peter said as he did the same, making a mental note to grab both his glasses and the extra hoodie from his locker before heading to class. He hadn't slept all that great the previous night, with both he and Papa winding up in the kitchen at around three in the morning raiding the refrigerator. Papa had made Peter a cup of hot chocolate but thankfully didn't press him to talk too much, likely because neither one of them seemed to be in the mood for too much talking.

At least Dad had made him a couple of new undershirts with the same kind of built-in heating system that his suit had so he had been able to stay a bit warmer during the day, but he still liked having the extra hoodie available anyway since it was still really freaking cold outside, and Gwen had pointed out his chattering teeth more than once.

"You look good with your glasses on. I'm surprised you don't just wear them all the time," Gwen said casually as they made their way down the hall, past one of the janitor's closets that was hanging open for some reason. Peter had noticed that the school had hired a new janitor after he came back from Christmas break, but unlike most of the others, this one hadn't taken the time to introduce himself to the students, even purposefully avoiding eye contact with them as they filed out of the gym after Decathlon practise.

And, not surprisingly, Dad had thrown a fit once he found out, rushing to do a complete background check on the man who's name turned out to be Spencer Smythe, a war vet who had been medically discharged, likely for mental health reasons.

"Um, thanks?" answered Peter. "I think?"

"Well, I just meant, don't you need them to actually see?" Gwen asked as they stepped inside the classroom, the cold, dry air practically slapping Peter in the face as they took their seats. "I've just noticed that you squint sometimes when you're not wearing them."

_I do?_

"Ah, no, I can see fine most of the time without them," Peter said. "It's just easier to wear 'em when I'm tired."

"Yeah, 'cause living in that Tower with a bunch of superheroes has to be just exhausting, right, little prince?" Flash sneered as he slid into his chair behind Peter. "Give me a break. It's not like they're making you scrub the floors like freaking Cinderella or something."

Gwen whipped around in her seat, glaring at Flash around Peter. "You know, I would've thought you getting dressed down by an actual god might've taught you to keep your mouth shut, Flash," she retorted. "But I guess not even that's enough to get through your thick skull."

Flash's tanned skin immediately went pale, his throat bobbing as he attempted to swallow. "Yeah, whatever. At least I don't need an actual god to stick up for me. And you're just trying to assert your new authority as Decathlon Captain whenever you get the chance, aren't you, Stacy?"

Peter's attempt to defend Gwen's honour was interrupted by the arrival of their teacher, who promptly launched into a lecture on the fall of the Iron Curtain following World War II. Since those events occurred after Papa's time, him having been frozen in 1945 before the Allies won the war, Peter made sure to take decent notes knowing that he would be sharing them later on with Papa and Uncle Bucky. Papa especially had become very interested in the events that occurred shortly after he was frozen, and Peter suspected it was because he was searching for historical parallels with the current political climate.

Which, at least from Peter's perspective, there seemed to be far too many. Aside from the atrocities committed by Hitler's Nazi regime before and during World War II, there was also the increasing hostility between the U.S. and Soviet Bloc countries that led to the weapons races that nearly bankrupted the economies on both sides before they were finally brought to a halt in the 1980's.

And while the U.S. and Russia were supposedly on friendly—or at least friendlier—terms now, the same couldn't be said for the U.S. and a few other countries, something the current president was attempting to exploit by enacting policies that Papa had bluntly termed, "exclusionary". Already there was serious talk about building walls, limiting immigration, and other various policies meant to, in President Cole's words, "Bring pride back to what it means to be an American". President Cole had even had the gall to repeatedly reference Peter and Dad's kidnapping in Afghanistan to try and justify his words, only backing down when Dad got Pepper's massive PR machine in motion and asked him to stop.

The fact that the U.S. was literally built on the backs of immigrants seemed to escape the President's thought process, something that both Dad and Papa felt very strongly about since they were both descendants of immigrants. Peter had heard the stories about Grandpa Howard's father more times than he could count, and Papa had also told him a few about when his own father came over from Ireland, trying to escape the turmoil resulting from the harsh discriminatory policies of Great Britain against the country.

And it didn't help that Dad and Uncle Bruce had just recently uncovered a campaign funding trail from a company run by the late Alexander Pierce to not only President Cole, but also to several of the recently-elected senators, a fact that Dad had refused to pass along to Papa without Uncle Sam being present.

That had been a particularly bad night. Peter didn't know exactly how many punching bags Papa went through after that conversation, but he was pretty sure it was all of them since his hands were all bandaged up the next morning and Dad was in one of his deep brooding moods, one Peter had a feeling wasn't only because of the campaign funding discovery. There was something else going on too, something that they hadn't bothered to share with Peter yet, and it bugged him to no end.

"So, anyway, I was thinking," Peter said to Gwen as they slowly shuffled out of the gym after practise. Peter had to admit that he was getting excited for the big competition, as Gwen had proven herself to be just as capable of a captain as Liz and their team was really whipping into shape.

"Oh, you were thinking?" Gwen said, smiling softly. "Well, that's original."

"Yeah," Peter said with a chuckle. He cleared his throat, not knowing where the hell this sudden surge of bravery was coming from but deciding to run with it anyway. "I was thinking… there's a movie theatre that's only a block away from your dad's police precinct, right?"

"Yeah?" answered Gwen. "My mom took my two youngest brothers there to see the last Pixar movie a few weeks ago. She said it was pretty nice."

"Well… would you wanna… maybe… I don't know… go and see—?"

"Yes," Gwen said quickly. "I'd—I'd love to see a movie with you. How 'bout a week from Saturday? My dad will be working then, so… he'll be more likely to say that I can go if he's nearby."

Peter blinked. That Saturday just happened to be the day before Valentine's Day, which meant he should probably get her some flowers or something as well. "Uhh, sure! Yeah, um… that's—that sounds great! Um—"

"Are you sure your dads will let you go, though?" Gwen asked, rather pointedly. "That's probably the bigger question."

Shrugging, Peter pushed open the exit door, allowing Gwen to step in front of him. "No, I'm not positive, but I think they might say yes if I ask my Uncle Bucky to come with us. He's super cool, he would just sit in the back or something and leave us alone, but he's also not someone that anyone would wanna mess with, so… it should be okay. And I think he'd even go to bat for me with Dad and Papa if he needed to."

"I'm sure my father would feel better if there was a chaperone too," said Gwen. "Sounds great!"

"Really?" Peter squeaked, rolling his eyes at his own absurd level of ridiculousness. "I mean, really? That's great! I'll, um… I'll ask Uncle Bucky tonight then and let you know?"

Gwen gave Peter a smile that sent ribbons of warmth coursing through him, which was good because it was absolutely _freezing _outside.

"Yeah," she said as her father pulled up in his patrol car, with Papa's truck directly behind him. "Just text me once you know for sure."

"Okay. Have a good night!"

"You too!"

Peter watched as the patrol car drove away before climbing into the backseat of the truck grinning like a fool, which he realised a few seconds too late when Dad shot him a questioning eyebrow.

"Got something to share there, bud?" he asked.

"Um… well, Gwen and I were just talking, and—"

"Yeah, you two seem to do that a lot," said Dad, smirking. "And what exactly were you talking about this time?"

Peter gulped, refusing to meet Papa's eyes in the rearview mirror and staring instead at the passenger seat in front of him. "Well… we were kinda hoping that we could go see a movie a week from Saturday. There's a theatre that's only a block away from her dad's precinct, and I was gonna ask if Uncle Bucky could come with us, you know, kinda as a guard/ chaperone so you guys would hopefully be a little less twitchy about it, so… do you think that'd be okay?"

Dad pursed his lips as he looked over at Papa, who tilted his head and frowned. Peter couldn't quite tell if it was the, I'm-not-sure-about-this frown, or the I'll-let-you-decide-sweetheart frown, but he knew it was at least one of the two possibilities.

"I guess I'm okay with it as long as we can station guards by the theatre," Papa finally said. He glanced back to look at Peter. "But only if Uncle Bucky can go with you, so you'll still need to ask him."

"I'll make sure the guards are there, honey," Dad said. He reached over to give Papa's knee a reassuring pat. "And I don't think Pete would try anything stupid while his girlfriend is with him, so we should be okay."

"Mmm, thanks?" Peter grumbled, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. "I guess?"

"As long as it's okay with Uncle Bucky, Peter," Papa said sternly. "I don't know, he and Uncle Sam may already have plans for that day."

"Well, then Uncle Sam can come too," Peter muttered. "I don't really care as long as they don't tease me too much in front of Gwen."

"With those two anything's possible, buddy, so I'd watch out," said Dad.

"Then I'll bribe them," retorted Peter, only half-joking. Now that he'd finally worked up the nerve to ask Gwen on an actual date, he really, _really_ wanted it to go well.

"I don't think that'll be necessary, little guy," said Papa as he pulled into the Tower garage. "Gwen is a nice girl, and I'm sure the two of you will have a good time. Dad and I just want to make sure that you're both safe."

"It's just a movie, Papa," Peter said, instantly regretting it when Papa's worry wrinkle appeared. "I mean, thanks. I really, really appreciate it."

"There's the right answer, bud," said Dad. "Now, I'm sure you've got homework?"

"Just a bit."

"Good, 'cause I could use your help in the lab tonight, got a new upgrade I'm working on for Uncle James that I'd like your input on."

"Uh huh."

Thanks to homework, helping with dinner, and then helping Dad in the lab, the rest of the evening flew by fast, and after talking with Gwen and telling her that his dads had agreed to let him go on their date, he flopped into bed exhausted, but happier than he'd been in a long, long time.

_Maybe things are finally starting to look up a bit_, he thought as Dad and Papa tucked him into bed, taking turns kissing his forehead. Even Papa seemed to be having one of his better days, which probably meant that he and Dad were making a beeline for their bedroom in three… two… one…

_Oh, crap! _

"Um, JARVIS?"

"Yes, Master Peter?"

"Ahh, can you please make sure that my dads' bedroom is soundproofed? Like, right now?"

"The master suite has indeed been soundproofed, no need to fret."

_Whew!_ "Uh huh," Peter said as he crushed his polar bear to his chest. Thanks."

"You are most welcome. Goodnight, Master Peter."

"'Night, JARVIS."

* * *

Tony tapped his fingers impatiently on the tabletop, waiting not-so-patiently for Quentin Beck to arrive for their meeting. The man was already seven minutes late, which Tony couldn't really fault him for too much since he'd never made much attempt to be on time for meetings himself, but he was rather impatient to get it over with. He had gone over Beck's proposal several times over the last couple of days, trying to convince himself that it was fine, that it was just a remarkable coincidence that it was so similar to Killian's pitch for Aminacin, but he hadn't yet been able to overcome his initial negative impression of it no matter how hard he tried.

He had even given in the night before and showed it to Steve, who believed even less in coincidences than Tony, and while Steve ultimately said it was Tony's area of expertise and therefore his decision, his uneasiness with it was only making Tony's worse.

And since Steve's instincts were usually spot on Tony knew better than to discount them, especially since he had been so much better lately. His twice weekly talks with Sam and daily sparring sessions with Thor had both done wonders for his mental health, and while the nightmares hadn't gone away completely, they had at least decreased in both frequency and severity.

In fact, they hadn't had to buy new sheets in almost two weeks now, which Tony was sure was a new record.

"C'mon, man," Tony muttered, checking the conference room clock yet again. Pepper had offered to attend the meeting as well, but Tony had declined. She was already busy enough overseeing the opening of the new Stark Industries building in India, as well as coordinating a second run of their newest StarkPhone since the first had completely sold out in only a couple of weeks.

Besides that, Tony could probably guess what she would say anyway, so there was no point in wasting her time.

Another three minutes ticked by until JARVIS spoke up, "Pardon me, sir. Mr Beck wishes to apologise for his tardiness, and would like to inform you that he is running late and will arrive in the conference room within the next ten minutes."

Tony huffed as he rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Thanks, J.

"You are most welcome, sir."

Taking a sip of his coffee, Tony pulled up Beck's employee file on his tablet, skimming down the list of projects he had overseen in the ten years he had been with Stark Industries, including the arc reactor installation in the SI building in D.C., a few items for the weapons division that never ended up panning out, and specs for various electronic devices over the years. He had just about reached the end of the list when something caught his eye, causing him to let out a gasp.

"Holy shit," he breathed, gulping audibly. "Um… JARVIS?"

"At your service, sir."

"Look up any changes to your programming matrix made by Quentin Beck and display."

Dozens of lines of computer code scrolled across his tablet screen not three seconds later, with the initial changes dating back to Beck's third year at the company, when he was first named to the position of Supervisor.

Which was also the year that Tony had started phasing JARVIS into the rest of Stark Industries. Having finally worked out most of the bugs with the UI at home, Tony began implementing JARVIS into the SI mainframe in small stages over the course of several months. He had also implemented pretty strict—at least at the time—safeguards against tampering, but he supposed it wouldn't have been too difficult for someone who knew what they were doing to make some minor changes to JARVIS's programming without his knowledge.

_Pete's even done it a few times, _Tony thought with a frown. The first time he had caught Peter tampering with JARVIS had been when he was eight, when he reprogrammed his television curfew so he could watch movies late at night while he was supposed to be sleeping. And Tony had to admit that he had done it so well that it had taken him awhile to catch on, not thinking to investigate anything until Peter did a literal faceplant into his Lucky Charms one morning because he was so tired.

"Goddamnit," Tony said under his breath as he read one particularly interesting line of code, tapping it to enlarge it. "Hey, JARVIS?"

"Yes, sir?"

"What exactly did Beck accomplish with this particular coding change? 'Cause to me, it almost looks like he—"

"And you would be correct, sir," JARVIS interrupted. "That particular code was written to allow Mr Beck to transfer certain project files to a computer server off of the Stark Industries premises."

Tony scrubbed a palm down his face, tilting his head as he studied the code. Back then it hadn't been too unusual for scientists to take their work home with them, and Tony had allowed it as long as any external servers they were using had been examined and preapproved.

But it _was_ unusual for someone to have to alter code in order to do so, which likely meant…

"Can you give me a location on the server, J?"

"Yes, sir. It is housed in one of the now-defunct Stark Industries buildings on the old California property."

"Really." Tony frowned, tapping his chin. "Okay, so… Beck started out in California?"

"That is correct, sir."

"And when did he move out here?"

"Mr Beck's transfer date is exactly six months after I came online in this facility."

"Six months…" Tony murmured. "And when was the last time that server was accessed?"

"The tenth of January, sir, of this year."

Tony's belly gave a hard lurch. "Isn't that the same night as that party Pete went to?"

"That is correct, sir, but it was not Mr Beck who accessed the server on that date. It was instead accessed by an as-yet-unidentified third party."

"Someone outside the company?" Tony asked. He curled his fingers around his left arm, squeezing against the tingling pain.

"It appears so, sir, but the data was processed through an innumerable number of routers, so I am unable to determine exactly where it was accessed from, or where the data ended up."

Tony huffed out a sharp breath. "'Cause it couldn't be just that easy now, could it."

"Is it ever, sir?"

"Okay, well, send this over to Bruce, get some fresh eyes on it."

"Very good, sir."

He had just closed out the screen when the conference room door flew open and Beck rushed into the room, a large tablet under his arm and a harried look on his face.

"Mr Stark, it's good to see you, sir," he said, shifting the tablet and holding out his hand. Tony attempted a smile as he took it, his eyes sweeping across the well-dressed scientist. With his dark hair and brown eyes Beck didn't look all that much like Killian, but there still seemed to be something about him, some smarminess that made Tony uneasy, and he suddenly found himself wishing that he had agreed to let Pepper sit in on the meeting after all.

"You might not remember," Beck began. "But we actually attended a conference together, back when the company was still based out in California. It was only a small tech conference held in Silicon Valley, but I'll never forget how mesmerised I was by you, sir. You're just… such an inspiring man to work for, and I hope you'll excuse my tardiness today because I just wanted to make absolutely sure that this presentation was worthy of your valuable attention."

_Yeah, and flattery will get you nowhere, mister, _Tony thought, clearing his throat. "Thank you, Mr Beck. Go ahead and proceed with your presentation."

Beck gave a nervous smile as he tapped his tablet, bringing up a holographic image of what looked like just an ordinary pair of wire-framed glasses.

"I haven't thought of a good enough name for it yet, naming stuff always gives me trouble, so I've just been calling it MAUDE in my project notes," Beck began. "But basically what I've done here is combine these holographic generating glasses with an old drug that I found in the Stark Industries archives, and voila. We have a cutting-edge holographic system that allows the user to imagine any number of possible scenarios in any possible location."

Tony's head had snapped up at the words, "old drug," and his eyes narrowed, studying the image in front of him. The only "old drug" he knew of that could possibly help someone interface with a holographic system was the CTX-616, but Tony had ordered all of it destroyed after the team had discovered that Obie had administered it to Peter in Afghanistan so he could wipe his mind while the Ten Rings experimented on him.

"Okay, so why don't you give me a couple examples of these 'possible scenarios'," Tony said, his hand again curling around his left forearm.

"Oh, sure, sure," said Beck. He tapped the tablet again, bringing up a video of what looked like a surgeon learning a new surgical technique. "This was one of our test subjects, a third-year medical student at Columbia, who was able to learn a very complicated surgical technique without even having to set foot inside a surgical suite. The drug combined with the MAUDE glasses allowed her to perfectly imagine the problem and practise her technique until she was able to get it down perfectly, all without the use of research animals. Going forward, this will allow her to now perform this rather complicated surgery correctly the very first time, potentially saving lives."

Tony studied the video, watching as the student repaired what appeared to be a severed set of arteries in a holographic patient's abdomen. While he could definitely see the advantage of learning a time-critical trauma surgery holographically than having to practise on patients in the heat of the moment, Tony couldn't hold back the shiver that raced down his spine at the rather dead look in the young woman's eyes, almost as though she was being possessed by something.

In fact, it was way too similar to the look Bucky's eyes held when he attacked Steve on the Project Insight helicarrier, as the Winter Soldier.

"Um," Tony said, forcing the word past the large lump in his throat. "You got any other examples?"

Beck's face dropped a bit but recovered quickly, giving Tony another wide smile. "So far we've only tested it in a few medical students, 'cause they're usually eager to sign up for testing stuff like this. But like I said in the proposal, there really are limitless possibilities with this tech. I mean, you could use it as a training program for fighter pilots, for example, or to learn how to drive, operate any kind of machinery. I mean, really, the sky's pretty much the limit."

_Exactly, _Tony thought. _Which means that it could also be easily weaponised, especially if the user is pretty much a zombie while using it._

"All right, so, you mentioned using an old drug from the SI archives?" Tony said.

"That's right," answered Beck.

"And what drug was that?"

"Uhh…" Beck paused to search through his notes, although to Tony it almost appeared as though he was feigning not knowing the answer.

"The designation was CTX-616," said Beck. "I noticed it was marked for destruction, so I managed to grab a bit of it before that happened. I had more of it synthesised after our initial tests were successful."

"You did _what?_" Tony exclaimed, his eyebrows shooting up. "Who authorised you to do that?"

Beck looked taken aback. "Um, I'm an R&D Supervisor, sir, so I didn't require authorisation. Why? Is it a problem?"

"There was a very good reason why that drug was set to be destroyed, Mr Beck," Tony said evenly. "And I don't appreciate the fact that it wasn't."

"But there was no reason given, other than the fact that it was old and likely expired," protested Beck. "And I thought you of all people would appreciate me trying to use our own resources rather than have to develop something completely new. You know, saving the company money and all?"

Tony shook his head, gripping his left forearm so tightly that his knuckles were white. "I'm sorry, Mr Beck, but I'm afraid I'm going to have to tell you to suspend all further experiments with that drug until further notice. I'll continue to study your holographic technology, but I want the complete supply of that drug brought to Pepper Potts' office within fifteen minutes from the conclusion of this meeting. Is that clear?"

"But, why?" asked Beck, sounding more like a whining teenager rather than an extremely intelligent engineer. "The MAUDE glasses don't work without the added effect of the drug, so without it the whole thing's useless!"

"I'm sorry, Mr Beck, but that's my final word on the subject," Tony said firmly. He got to his feet and held out his hand towards Beck, who looked as though he would rather spit on it than shake it. "I'll let you know when I've completed my analysis of the holographic system."

"I see," Beck said as he picked up his tablet, his jaw clenched tight with anger. "Thank you for your time, Mr Stark."

As soon as Beck was gone Tony slumped back down into his chair, loosening his tie and pressing his palm to his chest, where Steve's dog tags hung beneath his dress shirt. He was going to have to tell Steve about this, but he would have to time it carefully. Steve's three-steps-forward-two-steps-back progress was too tenuous for Tony to want to upset it.

Draining the rest of the lukewarm coffee in his cup, Tony picked up his tablet again, looking back at the lines of code he'd been studying earlier.

"JARVIS, you didn't happen to have the time to look deeper into those coding changes that Beck made while he was here, did you?"

"As a matter of fact, I did indeed, sir," answered JARVIS.

"And?"

"While I was unable to identify who accessed the server, I did discover that the person or entity that did so was located in New York City."

Tony threw up his hands. "New York City's pretty damn big, J, you can't do any better than that?"

"Not as of yet, sir. I will of course continue working on it."

"Yeah, yeah. Let me know the moment you find something, but don't just blurt it out if Steve's around either. The timing's a bit critical, okay?"

"Understood, sir."

Gathering up his coffee cup and tablet, Tony exited the room, nearly knocking directly into Pepper as she came around the corner.

"Tony!" she exclaimed. "I noticed Mr Beck stomping down the hall towards the elevator a few minutes ago, so I thought I'd come and see how the meeting went. I take it didn't go well?"

"Not exactly," Tony said quietly. "Look, I'm not saying that I'm suspicious of the guy, I'm just—"

"Suspicious of the guy," Pepper finished. "Care to tell me why, exactly?"

"Just a gut feeling, what Steve would call an instinct," said Tony. "I'm gonna be looking over Beck's stuff again tonight, but at the moment—"

"Well, your instincts are usually pretty spot on when it comes to company matters, so once you decide on something let me know as soon as possible," Pepper said. "If I need to have Beck's computer codes cancelled I don't want to give him any warning. As an R&D Supervisor he's had his hands in a lot of pies, so—"

"Yeah, yeah, I got it, Pep, thanks," Tony said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I'm gonna have Bruce take a look too, see what he thinks, but I'll let you know first thing tomorrow at the latest, all right?"

Pepper gave a nod. "All right. I'm sorry I had to dump this on you, Tony, but like I said—"

"It's all right," Tony cut in. "It's… actually good that I know about what's going on, 'cause… well…"

"I'm pretty sure I don't want to know," Pepper said with wide eyes. "I'll just be waiting for your call."

"Yeah. Might wanna have Happy on standby too, just in case," added Tony.

"Oh, he'll love that."

Steve and Sam were just finishing up their session when Tony stepped into the penthouse, Steve's worry wrinkle taking hold the second he glanced in Tony's direction.

"Sweetheart? What's wrong?"

Tony opened his mouth, snapped it closed, then glanced over to see Sam's look of curiosity and heaved a tired sigh. He should've known Steve would be able to read it all over his face the moment he saw him.

And since Sam was there too, he supposed now was just as good a time as any.

"You had your meeting with that engineer this afternoon, didn't you?" asked Steve. "Did something happen?"

Plunking himself down on the couch next to Steve, Tony pulled up the incriminating code on his tablet, explaining how Beck had altered JARVIS's programming in order to send files to a private server off-site. To his relief, Steve seemed to take the news in stride, asking intelligent questions in his Captain's voice instead of panicking and immediately trying to get Peter home early from school.

At least, he was until Tony started going over the details of Beck's proposal. As soon as Tony uttered the words CTX-616, all the colour drained from Steve's face and he grabbed Tony's hand, squeezing it hard.

"Tony—!"

"Steve, Pete is fine, I asked JARVIS to check on him on my way up here," Tony assured him. "And just because Beck was using this drug doesn't mean that—"

"But we can't be sure about that, can we?" Steve asked. "Tony? Maybe we should—"

"Now just hold on a second here, Steve," interrupted Sam. "It doesn't do anyone any good jumping to conclusions when there might not be any ground underneath you when you try and land."

"Yes, I know, but—!"

"If I may cut in, Captain Rogers, I believe I have some information pertaining to current discussion that would be of interest," JARVIS said suddenly. "It is regarding Mr Beck's off-site server."

"Go ahead, J," said Tony.

"After our previous discussion, I took the liberty of placing a tracer on the server," JARVIS began. "That tracer was just activated approximately three minutes ago, meaning someone was accessing the server at that time."

"Okay, so do we know who accessed it?" asked Steve. "Was it Beck?"

"Unfortunately I am unable to determine that information at this time, Captain. However, I would not discount the apparent coincidence between he and Mr Stark's meeting and the server being accessed shortly following that meeting's conclusion."

"No, I wouldn't either," Tony muttered. "JARVIS, tell Pepper to get in touch with Human Resources and then call Beck to her office. And it might be a good idea to have Happy there too. Beck seemed a bit… unstable, so he's probably not going to take this news very well."

"Oh my God, Tony!" Steve exclaimed. "What if—?"

"It's not gonna do us any good to get bogged down in what ifs, Steve," Sam said firmly. "Let's just take care of the obvious problem, all right?"

Steve gulped, gripping Tony's hand as he gave a brief nod. "You're right. So, what should we do with this information?"

"Dr Banner is already working on locating the exact source of the server, Captain," said JARVIS. "However, he is unsure how much of his time he should devote as he is also still attempting to decrypt the coded files from the Mongolian base."

"I still think the files should be the priority," Steve said after a short pause, thankfully sounding more like himself. "JARVIS, can you just take over the server duties for the time being?"

"I can, Captain."

"Go ahead and cancel Beck's computer codes too, J," said Tony. "And I also want a compiled file of every project he's had his nose in for the entire time he's been with Stark Industries."

"Very good, sir."

Steve's eyebrows knitted together as he worried his bottom lip between his teeth. "I'd like to suggest that we try and put a tail on Beck, but the last time we tried that the agents we used turned out to be HYDRA, so—"

"I'll talk to Fury about it," said Tony. "He may not have eyes and ears everywhere like he used to, but his net is still pretty wide. I'm sure he could find a way to track Beck without being obvious. Beck's got a pretty specific skill set, so he'll most likely try and go to a competitor, especially if he thinks he has some inside knowledge of my company that would make him valuable."

"And would it?" asked Steve. "Make him valuable?"

"Eh, maybe," Tony admitted. "But it's not like anyone else can keep up with us tech-wise, so I wouldn't worry too much about it."

"That's not exactly what I'm worried about, Tony," said Steve. "If that drug gets into the wrong hands again, then—"

"Steve, we're getting back into the what-if territory again," warned Sam. "Now correct me if I'm wrong, but usually people aren't allowed to take anything with them when they're let go from a company like this, right?"

"Yeah, that's right," answered Tony. "Unless the employee holds a personal patent on something, anything they've worked on or developed is considered to be Stark Industries property."

"So then it should be fine," said Sam. "The guy will be gone, the drug will be destroyed, and we can all move on."

Tony had to admit that Sam's statement seemed almost a bit too optimistic, but he wasn't about to say that in front of Steve.

There was also a thought bouncing around in the back of his mind that had been there ever since Beck's presentation. Beck had stated—rather emphatically—that his glasses contraption couldn't work without the added zombie effect of the CTX-616 drug, but…

What if _he _could make it work?

No, that was silly. Of course Tony could make it work. There had never been anything he hadn't been able to make work once he set his mind to it.

The real question was: what exactly could he _do _with it?

"Tony?" Steve asked, concerned. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, just had a kind of interesting thought." Tony gave his head a quick shake, squeezing Steve's hand reassuringly. "JARVIS, has Beck been escorted out yet?"

"Mr Beck is still speaking to the gentleman from Human Resources, sir," said JARVIS. "However, Mr Hogan is standing by to escort Mr Beck off the premises as soon as their discussion is concluded."

"All right, good. Tell Happy that as soon as he's gone I'd like him to pack up Beck's office and bring all his stuff up here."

"Very good, sir."

"Well," Sam said after a short pause. "Never a dull moment around this place, huh?"

Tony shot him one of Peter's _duh_ looks. "The fact that you actually thought there would be is rather laughable, Wilson."

"Oh, I really didn't," replied Sam, chuckling. "But that doesn't mean I'm not looking forward to that trip to Italy. Never been there, but heard it's pretty nice."

"Yeah, I think we're all looking forward to it," said Steve. "It'll be good for the team to decompress a bit."

"Hey, I'm all for decompressing," Sam said as he clapped Steve on the shoulder. "See ya tomorrow morning, Cap?"

Steve gave a quick nod. "You got it."

The elevator doors had barely closed when JARVIS spoke up. "Pardon me, sir, but Mr Beck has now been officially escorted from the Tower. Mr Hogan reports he will deliver the contents of Mr Beck's office as soon as possible."

"Yeah, thanks, J."

"Care to share your interesting thought?" Steve asked. "Does it involve the technology from Beck's proposal?"

"The glasses, yeah." Tony huffed out a long breath as he looked up at his husband, the unbelievably gorgeous man who loved both himself and his son beyond all reason. Steve's jaw was tight and his worry wrinkle was fading in and out, but Tony could tell that he was trying hard not to give into the panic simmering just beneath the surface, something that wouldn't have been possible only a couple of weeks ago.

He brought Steve's hand to his lips and pressed a slow kiss to his knuckles, still covered in bruises and scrapes from one of his morning workouts. It was going to be a challenge, and a very expensive one at that, but once he could get it figured out… well… like Beck had said, the applications could be limitless.

"And if I'm right, which I always am," he said. "Then it'll not only be able to help you, but Pete and Bucky as well."

"And you?" Steve asked in a small voice. He curled his arms around Tony's waist and pulled him close, and Tony practically melted against him. Maybe that meeting with Beck had been more stressful that he'd originally thought. "You've been running yourself ragged trying to take care of us, sweetheart, especially lately, so I'm not gonna let you forget about you."

"Yeah, we'll see," Tony said, pursing his lips when Steve frowned at him. "Probably, honey, okay? Let me see what I've got to work with first, yeah? I wouldn't put it past Beck to have stomped those glasses of his to bits before he was kicked out of the building."

Steve gave him a soft smile. "Is it bad of me to be glad that he's gone? I don't know, I didn't even meet the guy, but there was just something about the way he wrote his proposal that just didn't sit well with me."

"And once again your instincts were spot on," Tony said softly. "You would think I'd learn."

"Oh, I'm sure you'll get there eventually," murmured Steve. He dipped his head, planting a short but sweet kiss on Tony's lips. "Now, I suppose you haven't eaten lunch yet, have you?"

Tony was just about to point out that coffee was a perfectly acceptable alternative to lunch when Steve chuckled, giving him a knowing look.

"That's what I thought," he said. "So why don't I go make us something to eat while you tell me more about this idea of yours?"

Tony wound his arms around Steve's neck, tugging him down for another kiss.

"Sounds good, babe."

* * *

_**As always, I can't wait to see what you think! Please don't hesitate to leave me a review! :)**_


	10. Chapter 10

"So do you think I should get her like a whole bouquet, or just a couple of flowers?" Peter asked as they squeezed inside the tiny floral shop across the street from the police station. He had asked if he could buy Gwen some flowers before their date, which Steve had thought was very sweet of him, but since he and Tony didn't really celebrate Valentine's Day—Tony thought it was too commercialised and silly, and Steve wasn't the biggest fan of it either—Steve hadn't thought about just how busy the place would be, or just how many flowers would be crammed inside such a small store, the combined scents of which were so overwhelming that it was already starting to give him a headache.

"Well, I don't know, little guy," Steve said, nearly backing into a particularly large display as another guy attempted to squeeze by him. "Do you know what kind of flowers your friend likes?"

"I always just got roses, girls seemed to like 'em just fine," said Bucky, whose glowering face was partially hidden underneath a low-lying Mets baseball cap. While Director Fury had finally managed to get Bucky a replacement military ID, complete with an altered date of birth that listed his age as thirty-one instead of ninety-five, he didn't yet have a driver's licence or any other New York State ID, so he was still very careful when he was out in public.

"Mmm, I don't think Gwen likes roses all that much though," said Peter, wrinkling his nose. "Maybe I should just stick with tulips or daisies or something, and then get one of those little teddy bears to go with it? Do you guys think that sounds okay?"

"Teddy bears are always good, Птер," said Bucky. "Can't usually go wrong with one of those."

Peter gave him a nervous smile. "All right, then that's what I'll do."

Steve watched Peter carefully as he headed towards the rows of single flowers, carefully selecting two pretty pink tulips and a cute white teddy bear and bringing them over to the checkout line. It still unnerved him a bit to have Peter out in such a crowded public place with just he and Bucky as backup, but he was trying hard to not give into his irrational fear. This was a completely normal errand, Sam had reminded him, and it was time that he stopped being so afraid of normalcy.

Besides that, Tony and Bruce had been on the verge of what Bruce was calling a pretty major breakthrough when they were getting ready to leave, and Steve hadn't wanted to interrupt him. It had been far too long since they'd had some good news.

"The boy's gonna be fine, Стиви," Bucky said, breaking Steve from his thoughts. "It's just a movie date. We used to go on 'em all the time."

"No, _you_ used to go on them all the time," Steve corrected him. "_I_ was always just kinda there, tagging along as your annoying third wheel."

_And that was a long time ago. Way before the era of supervillains._

Bucky shrugged, giving Steve that sly smile that he had started to see more and more often lately as his memories slowly continued to return, the one that the old Bucky used to give him at least three times a day when they were kids. "Yeah, that is pretty much what you used to do, isn't it." He gave Steve a rather sharp elbow to the side. "But now look atcha."

"Yeah," Steve said softly, smiling as Peter politely thanked the checkout lady, looking very proud of himself. "Now look at me."

_Now look at me. Still fighting to survive, but in a completely different way._

That was how Sam had put it, at least, and Steve had no doubt that he was right.

He just wished so badly that it didn't have to be that way. That somehow all the demons would suddenly just get tired of tormenting him and his family, and up and leave.

And especially for Peter's sake. Because no matter how low Steve got on any given day, it was still a million times better than having to watch his poor son suffer through his own horrible nightmares and flashbacks, and he knew that Tony felt the exact same way. They weren't coming as frequently as they had right after the water monster attack—thank _God_—but they still happened far too often, and nothing they tried seemed to completely help him. Whether it was therapeutic massage, white noise, a new sleeping medication concocted by Bruce, or one of Thor's ancient Asgardian slumbering chants, nothing was able to keep the demons at bay for longer than a few nights, leaving them right back where they started and completely frying Tony and Steve's nerves in the process.

And the fact that Peter tried so hard to put on such a brave face about it made it all the more heartbreaking.

_He's so much like Tony._

"Okay, I think I'm ready," Peter said, carefully clutching his perfectly-wrapped bundle of gifts. "We're supposed to pick Gwen up at the police station now."

"Well, then we shouldn't keep the lady waiting," Steve said as he headed for the door, breathing in an extra deep breath once they were back outside on the sidewalk. He kept his hand on Peter's shoulder as they crossed the street, finding Gwen waiting for them with her father just inside the lobby of the station. Steve had to hide his grin at the look on Gwen's face when she saw Peter, and realised what he was carrying, something that didn't escape Chief Stacy's notice either.

"Good day, Captain Rogers," said Chief Stacy, offering Steve his hand as he glanced over at Bucky, who gave him a brief but polite nod. "And… Uncle James, I believe?"

"Hello, Mr Stacy," Steve replied. "And yes, this is Peter's Uncle James, who will be accompanying Peter and Gwen to the movies."

"One of his Uncle James', Dad," Gwen said with a wide smile. "Peter has two of them."

"Oh, yes. So I've heard," said Stacy. He gave Gwen a quick kiss on the cheek. "Well, have a good time, sweetheart."

"Thanks, Dad!"

"Thank you, Mr Stacy," said Peter, offering Gwen his arm like the little gentleman that he was. Steve felt another surge of pride at his son's impeccable manners, and judging by the look on Chief Stacy's face, he was pretty impressed too.

"Try not to worry, Стиви, yeah?" Bucky whispered as Peter and Gwen stepped up to the curb, waiting for the light to change. "I'll keep a close eye on him."

"Thanks," Steve whispered back, very aware that Chief Stacy was still standing about a metre away. They both watched as everyone crossed the street, with two of Happy's security guards taking up their positions by the theatre entrance as soon as the three of them disappeared inside.

"All right, then," Steve said, rather awkwardly. "Mr Stacy, it was nice to meet you, sir. I hope you have a good rest of your day."

Chief Stacy frowned, pursing his lips. "Look, Captain, I'm not exactly sure what your son might've told you about me, but—"

"Peter hasn't told me anything about you, sir," Steve interrupted. "As I'm sure you've noticed, he is an extremely polite young man. His father and I just want to make sure that he's kept as safe as possible, and since he became ill while at your home, we just felt that—"

"As do I, Captain," Stacy said firmly. "Keep him safe, that is. As both a father and a law enforcement officer, it's very important to me that all of the people under my watch are kept as safe as possible, and that includes all of the occupants of that Tower of yours. Especially when two of them are right now in the company of my daughter."

Steve stared at the man, trying to keep his face as neutral as possible even as his phone buzzed in his pocket. "I guess I'm not exactly sure how you're expecting me to respond, sir," he finally said. "If you were opposed to allowing Gwen to see my son, then why did you agree to the movie date in the first place?"

"I'm not opposed, Captain," Stacy said. "As a matter of fact, I was very impressed by that boy of yours when he came over that evening, and I felt bad that it had to end on such a lousy note." He heaved a heavy sigh, shaking his head. "I guess I'm just not quite ready for my little girl to grow up. She had never shown any interest in boys at all until we moved over here, and—"

"And she met Peter," Steve finished.

"Yeah." Stacy paused, glancing down the block towards the movie theatre. "I mean, I know they're still very young and all, but… well… like you said, Peter is a very polite and honourable young man, so—"

"His father and I wouldn't have it any other way, sir," said Steve, patting his pocket when his phone buzzed again. He held out his hand, shaking Stacy's firmly. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'll let you get back to your work."

"Yes, well, good day, Captain," Stacy said with a nod. Steve got the impression that he had more to say, but he had neither the patience nor the time to listen to him at the moment.

As soon as Stacy was out of sight, Steve pulled out his phone. As he'd suspected, the first text was from Bucky, informing him that Peter and Gwen were seated five rows in front of him and that he could see them both clearly from his position, and also that Peter had purchased enough popcorn, drinks, and candy for at least six people. He had even bought Bucky some sour skittles, which had become his favourite candy since he'd moved into the Tower.

The second text was from Tony, and as Steve read it over he sped up his footsteps until he was practically trotting down the street towards the Tower. The team had indeed found something of importance, and were waiting for him in Tony's lab.

He arrived panting and sweating to find the entire team minus Thor assembled in the lab, all crowded around Bruce's workstation. Thor had been summoned back to Asgard a couple of days ago in order to deal with yet another incident involving his brother, promising to return as soon as he could.

"Hey, babe," Tony said, his expression an odd mixture of grimness and satisfaction. Steve planted a quick kiss on his cheek, then glanced at Bruce's monitor, which was covered in lines and lines of Russian text that Natasha was busy translating.

"What have you found?"

"Here, Steve," Bruce said, pointing to the monitor where the translated text was now displayed. "We've found another connection to those names that we uncovered at the Mongolian bunker."

"Okay, so…" Steve's voice trailed off as he read over the text, detailing the early life of Mark Raxton. According to the file, Raxton had also been a scientist at SHIELD, working on yet another top-secret project likely under the tutelage of the same head scientist as Morris Bench, who they still had yet to identify. Steve skimmed over the more technical aspects, his belly giving a hard swoop as he came across another name that sounded familiar.

"Tony, isn't that—?"

"Yeah, babe, it is." Tony breathed in as he took Steve's hand. "I knew there had to be something fishy about that new janitor at the school, I just _knew _it, especially when Morita told me he wasn't really given a choice on whether to hire him, said it was due to some state-mandated program giving jobs to disabled vets or something. But it's already been taken care of. I personally contacted Morita about it and Maria Hill has already informed the FBI, so Smythe isn't gonna be an issue any longer."

"But—but—!" Steve sputtered, rapidly shaking his head. "Tony, if Smythe was really placed there at the school to stalk Peter, then why hasn't he tried something by now? He's already been there for a few weeks! And who exactly forced Principal Morita to hire him in the first place? And are we absolutely sure we can trust the FBI? I mean, they still won't give us all that much information on Toomes, and—"

"Right now we don't really have a choice, Steve," said Natasha. "With the political environment the way it is we need to tread very carefully, and going through the proper channels is the best way to do that. That doesn't mean we can't keep our eye on stuff too, but for now it's best if we play by their rules."

"Nat's right, Cap," Clint piped up. "Trust me, with things the way they are, this is the way to go until we absolutely can't anymore."

Steve huffed as he squeezed Tony's hand, tears filling his eyes when Tony squeezed back almost as hard.

"_We're all in this together, babe," _his touch said. "_You, me, and the team."_

And Steve knew Clint was right, that if anyone would know about navigating unpleasant modern political waters, it was Natasha.

"All right," he said, clearing his throat. "But do we know where this guy is right now? 'Cause Peter is out there at the movies with only Bucky and a few guards as backup, so—"

"Steve, as soon as we figured this out I texted the guy's picture to Bucky and all six of the security guards stationed around the theatre, so they know who to look for if Smythe does try to show his face," said Tony. "But chances are very high that the feds are gonna be picking him up in the next few minutes, so we won't have to worry about him for too much longer."

"And you know Bucky's not gonna let anything happen to Peter, Steve," said Sam. "And with the police station just across the street it'd be pretty idiotic to try anything anyway."

"Don't think those guys really care about local law enforcement there, Sam," said Clint. "But you're at least right about Bucky. Pretty sure Peter has him wrapped around his little finger."

"I agree," Steve said softly. In fact, he had mentioned something along those lines to Bucky before they had left for the flower shop, wanting to make sure that Bucky understood the potential risk he was taking. While there hadn't been an ongoing active manhunt for the Winter Soldier ever since the Miami bunker battle, Steve knew that there were still people out there who would love to get their grimy hands on Bucky just as they would Peter, so Steve had urged him to be extra careful. His new military ID was a good start to erasing his former life as a programmed assassin, but there were still plenty of traces of it out there if someone knew where to look.

"Yeah, and Bucky is well aware of that, Clint," Sam said warily. "He and I have talked at length about it, and he's willing to take the risk. It doesn't do anyone any good to stay cooped up inside all the damn time."

Steve inhaled a shaky breath, letting it out slowly. It made sense, what Tony and Sam and were saying about Smythe. If he was another one of the semi-enhanced programmable soldiers then he likely would've been on the same list as the rest of the enhanced people, and probably would have tried to attack Peter the moment he saw him, not just been hanging back and watching him all this time.

"Okay, so this Smythe guy is connected to Mark Raxton, how?" he asked.

"From what we can tell, Raxton was Smythe's research partner," said Bruce. "But according to this document, apparently Smythe got cold feet when he was ordered to run an experiment that he didn't agree with, so he tried to resign."

"Yeah, and something tells me that HYDRA doesn't exactly allow their scientists to resign," said Steve.

"And something would be correct, honey," Tony replied. "I'm guessing that's probably around the time when Smythe was 'medically discharged'."

"So, what, they erased his memories and then sent him to work at Peter's school as a spy?"

"Well, we've already seen that HYDRA can mess with people's memories, right?" said Clint. "With that drug?"

"Yeah, that and the sceptre," answered Steve. "We've had the sceptre in our possession since the Miami battle, but they could've used it on Smythe before then or just used the drug. Are we sure that all of the drug has been destroyed now?"

"Fury was adamant that they got all of the Aminacin from the Miami bunker after the battle, babe, and all of the CTX-616 that was being housed here at Stark Industries has been destroyed," Tony said. "As for there potentially being other stocks of it somewhere else, though, it is a possibility. We know both Obie and Beck got their hands on it while it was here, and one or both of them might've transported some off-site, so—"

"So the bottom line is, we don't know for sure," said Steve, his free hand clenching into a fist at his side. He could feel both Tony's worried eyes and Sam's concerned ones boring into the sides of his head, so he was trying very hard not to give into his welling panic. The team needed him to be their Captain, not the blubbering mess he felt like being at the moment.

The demons were just going to have to stay locked up for awhile longer.

"No, babe, we don't," Tony said softly. "But like I said, we've already taken care of Smythe, so now we just need to focus on finding this Raxton guy."

Steve gave a nod, still clutching Tony's hand. "All right. And where are we on that? Have we been able to uncover a photograph yet?"

"Pardon me, Captain, sir," JARVIS cut in. "But Sergeant Barnes wishes to report that all is currently well at the theatre. Master Peter and Miss Stacy are holding hands and she is leaning against his arm, but they are otherwise enjoying the movie."

"That's good, J, tell him thanks for us," Tony replied, shooting Steve a look of relief. They had asked Bucky to send them updates every half hour during the movie, knowing he could do so without Peter finding out.

"Will do, sir."

"That kid of yours is gonna turn out to be even more sickeningly sweet than the two of you, isn't he," Clint grumbled as he rolled his eyes. "I should've known."

"Hey, nothing wrong with holding a girl's hand at the movies, Barton, long as that's all he's doing," Tony said.

"Yeah, Clint," added Natasha, a rather evil-looking gleam in her grey eyes. "I'm sure Tony wasn't limiting himself to just holding hands when he was fifteen."

"No, not exactly," Tony muttered under his breath. "But we all know Pete's a far better kid than I ever was, so—"

"Anyway," interrupted Steve. He had heard more stories about Tony's party-fueled and promiscuous college years than he ever cared to remember, especially since Tony was such a different person now that he had been back then. "Raxton wasn't the only other name left on that list, right? There was still one more."

"Yeah, that's right," said Bruce. "The final name was William Baker, but unfortunately we either haven't come across the correct files on him yet or there's nothing else in here about him, 'cause we haven't been able to find anything else."

"And we also might want to start thinking about what's going to happen once we've gone through all these names," said Natasha. "I know we're still working on the decryption, and that it's pretty slow-going, but do we have a plan on what to do next?"

Steve thought for a moment. Ideally they would be able to find this Raxton fellow before he had a chance to get programmed or transformed or whatever it was that had caused the other two attempted assassins to disintegrate, but without a photo or other clear evidence of where he was, he couldn't see how that would be possible.

"Do we know if there's any further information on Raxton in these files?" he asked.

"Unfortunately, no," answered Bruce. "Like I said, this decryption is about as difficult as they come, and there's no salvaging anything if we happen to pick the wrong key. That's the main reason why it's taking so long. There's already been three files that we've lost to choosing the wrong key, so it's possible there was more information about Raxton in one of those, but… now we'll never know."

"Or possibly on this William Baker person," said Steve.

"Correct, babe," said Tony. "So far the only thing we've been able to find out about Baker is that he was never employed at SHIELD, or at least not officially. Other than that there's nothing."

"That we've found."

"Right," Tony said with a sigh.

"Pardon me, sir," said JARVIS. "But Ms Hill reports that FBI agents have indeed arrested Spencer Smythe at his apartment. According to her FBI liaison, Smythe will be transferred to the same holding facility where Adrian Toomes is currently residing."

"Thanks, J," said Tony as Steve's shoulders dropped in relief. "And I suppose Toomes is still refusing to talk?"

"Yes, sir, according to Ms Hill."

"Well, maybe if we manage to round up the rest of his buddies he'll be more likely to start talking," said Clint. "The dude can't stay quiet forever, can he?"

"I wouldn't think so," Steve said. "But then again, I'm not sure exactly how they could get him to talk without resorting to some form of torture, which I highly doubt the FBI would sanction. Or, at least I hope they wouldn't sanction it."

"Yeah, and you'd be right," said Natasha. "The FBI isn't the KGB. Yet."

"Or at least we're assuming so," added Clint. "For all we know the FBI is just stonewalling us 'cause they don't feel like sharing the credit."

"Yeah, and you're the one who was just telling Steve that we still need to play by the rules, Barton," Tony snapped. "So which is it?"

Clint held up his hands. "Hey, I'm just telling it like I see it. I'm not saying we should go in and start interrogating the guy ourselves, just that he's lucky he's not in the old Soviet Union."

_Yeah, but for how long?_ Steve thought, shocked at how quickly and easily the thought jumped into his mind. For a second he was afraid that he had even said it out loud when Tony shot him an alarmed glance, but quickly realised it was probably because he was squeezing Tony's hand so hard that he likely could no longer feel his own fingers.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," he whispered as he loosened his vice-like grip, massaging Tony's fingers. "I'm just—"

"Is there no chance of one of us getting in to see Toomes?" asked Sam. "I mean, the Avengers' name still has to carry some weight with the feds, maybe it's worth a shot?"

"I could do it," Tony said quickly, causing Steve's head to snap up in surprise. He opened his mouth to protest, and was immediately greeted with Tony's don't-argue-with-me-babe frown. "I've still got a few favours saved up, let me see what I can do."

"Okay, but I'm not sure you should go in alone, Tony," Steve protested. "I think Sam or Clint should go with you, okay?"

"I'm all right with that," said Clint.

"Fine," Tony huffed. "I'll make the calls as soon as we're done here. Maybe we can even get in to see Smythe too."

"That would be helpful," said Steve. "Even if his memories were tampered with, there still might be something there that could be useful."

"And in the meantime, I'll just keep plugging away at these decryptions," said Bruce. "'Cause there's nothing more exciting than searching through a hundred and fifty-year-old Russian Bible for keyphrases day in and day out."

A flash of anger shot through Steve, and he was just about to retort when he felt Tony's fingers curl around his wrist.

"He's joking, babe," he said gently. "You know Bruce's sense of humour has a tendency to be a bit too on the nose sometimes, right?"

"Yeah, Steve, that was… I shouldn't've said that, it was out of line," Bruce said sheepishly. "Sorry."

Steve shook his head, making a poor attempt at a smile. "It's all right, Bruce. I know all of this has been a bit tedious, and keeping you from your other work, but I also know that I don't need to remind you how important it is." He paused, his eyes sweeping around his teammates all gathered around him. "I know it's sometimes hard to remember, but we're not only doing all of this for Peter's sake. From what we've witnessed so far it does appear that these semi-enhanced individuals were aiming directly for Peter, but we also can't forget to look at the bigger picture. The fact that these individuals even exist in the first place is because someone, or a group of someones, has taken it upon themselves to decide what they think is best for everyone else, and has done so without consideration for anyone else but themselves. Now, I'm not sure about you, but I don't think a true democracy would allow that to happen, which is why we not only have to continue what we're doing in light of recent events, we also have to be even more careful about it. Because until we're able to gather all the available evidence and tie all of these seemingly random events together, we're just as vulnerable as any other average citizen when it comes to the whims of this new government, and I know that's one thing that I'm not personally willing to put up with."

Steve paused for a moment to glance at Tony, his lower lip trembling at the the look of pure admiration on his face, something that Steve never, ever grew tired of. Tony had told him many times how much he loved his "Captain America pep talks", and Steve was immensely grateful for his support.

"I've already watched one dictator's rise to power, and I'll be damned if I'm going to watch another," Steve concluded. "And I hate to have to say it, but all the signs are there, and it might just wind up being up to us to prevent history from repeating itself."

A chorus of nods and murmured assent followed Steve's final words, with JARVIS speaking up a few seconds later.

"Sergeant Barnes reports all is well in the movie theatre, sir, Captain."

"Thank you, JARVIS," Steve said.

"Yeah, thanks, J," said Tony. "And if you don't mind, go ahead and dig into Howard's archives and pull up the number of that FBI agent that he used to have drinks with whenever he was in D.C., yeah? What was his name?"

"Agent Bartlett, sir?"

"Yeah, that sounds about right."

"All right, then I think we'll all get out of your hair," Bruce said, gathering up his multitude of references and papers. "And obviously we'll let you know as soon as we find anything new."

"Yeah, thanks, big guy," said Tony. "And I should have some time tomorrow afternoon to give you a bit of a break, I know it's been awhile since you've had one."

"Yeah, but Steve's right," Bruce said with a shrug. "If they come for one of us then they're gonna be coming for all of us, so we should probably be ready."

Steve watched his teammates file out of the room, turning to Tony once they were alone to find him idly tracing his finger along the chain holding Steve's dog tags underneath his shirt. He was deep in thought, and judging from the tight set of his jaw and the slight narrowing of his eyes, it wasn't a particularly good thought.

"Sweetheart?" Steve said softly as he reached for his husband's elbow. "How can I help?"

Tony scoffed, giving Steve one of his _I'm fine_ smiles that he knew Steve could always see right through. "It's probably nothing, babe, just—"

"None of your deep thoughts are ever nothing, mo grá," Steve murmured. "What is it?"

Tony tipped his head forward, thudding against Steve's collarbone as Steve's arms wound around his waist. "I'm just thinking, what if we're coming at this from the wrong direction?"

"Which part?"

"These semi-enhanced, I guess we're calling them. We've all been operating under the impression that they've only been coming after Pete with these attacks, but what if that's only part of their overall mission?"

Steve's arms froze against Tony, and he buried his nose into his hair, breathing in deeply.

"I'm listening."

"Well… this whole movie date thing reminded me of it. Something that George Stacy said to Pete that night he was was over at their house."

"Stacy said quite a few things that night," Steve grumbled. "But I thought we determined that he was just ranting because he was frustrated, and not really a threat?"

"We did, and I still don't think he's a threat," said Tony. "But what he said about there possibly being other enhanced people out there who would rather snap someone's neck like a twig than help them… I mean, with the road this government seems to be heading down, I wouldn't put it past them to have orchestrated all of this to make it seem like exactly that."

Steve was quiet for a moment, his mind swirling with the possible ramifications of Tony's theory. "And so you think they could eventually use these attacks as an excuse to come after us?"

"Wouldn't put it past 'em," Tony mumbled into Steve's chest. "They've already started debating that new legislation even though Spider-Man hasn't been seen in months—"

"Aside from the lake incident," Steve reminded him.

"Yeah, aside from that. But even so, why the sudden new interest in reviving a bill that's already been shot down?"

"Well, since the elections they've been able to stack their side of the deck a bit better," Steve said.

"True. But still… something just doesn't sit right with me about HYDRA using these disposable soldiers. I mean, it's not that I can't see them doing it, but even if their only goal was to get at Pete, it doesn't seem right that they would try almost the exact same thing again after it didn't work the first time. They're smarter than that."

"From what we've seen," Steve agreed. "But if you're right, that would definitely tie our government in with HYDRA, and if it's true… that just opens a whole new can of worms."

Tony looked up at him, tilting his head. "Well, you've always suspected they were in bed together anyway."

"Yes, but suspicions still aren't the same as proof, sweetheart."

"Maybe not, but that doesn't mean they aren't correct," Tony said, frowning. "And since when do you discount your own suspicions?"

Steve gulped, forcibly squashing his panic demon back down. "I'm—I'm not, or I guess I don't mean to. It's just… Tony, we know that HYDRA knows about Peter, so if they really are tied in with our government then that means there are government officials out there who are either already aware of him, or they will be soon."

"I know, babe," Tony said somberly. "Which is why we need to get that stuff decrypted as soon as possible, and hopefully before the entire government has fallen under President Cole's spell, 'cause if that happens—"

"It'll be like Bruce said," said Steve. "They'll come for all of us."

"Yeah."

"But I'm not gonna let that happen, Tony," Steve said firmly. "If I see that the situation is heading too far south for us to ignore, I'm not going to allow you or Peter to get caught in the crossfire. I'll arrange for Thor to take you both to Asgard or something, and—"

"And you know damn well that there's no possible way that I would ever leave you alone," Tony snapped. "If it comes down to it Thor can take Pete, but I'm not leaving you to fend for yourself. That's not what we do."

"Tony—"

"I said, _no!"_ Tony shouted, pushing back against Steve's chest. "I'm not gonna let you do it, Steve, so you just get that out of your stubborn head right the hell now!"

Tears welled in Steve's eyes, spilling down his cheeks before he even realised they were there. And Tony said _he _was the stubborn one, how could he not see that Steve was only trying to protect him? "But, sweetheart, you're not genetically enhanced, so why would they—?"

"Oh, come on, you think they're really gonna care?" Tony demanded. "When it comes down to it, you really think that's gonna matter at all? A HYDRA-controlled government official already tried to wrangle the Armed Forces Committee into confiscating my suits way back when, so what would stop them from just doing that again? Absolutely _nothing_, that's what! And you think they won't dig up some old KGB dirt on Nat in order to nail her too? No. If they come for you, they're coming for me too, and that's just how it's gonna be!"

"Tony—!"

"End of discussion, Steve, and I mean it."

Steve's entire body was prickling with fear as he reached for Tony again, winding his fingers into his hair and tucking his head under his chin. He had heard far too many stories of families being ripped apart by Hitler and his Nazi regime during the war, soldiers who didn't know where their loved ones were or if they would ever see them again, and Steve just couldn't fathom how he could handle being separated from his own family.

But, if he knew that doing so was the best way to keep Tony and Peter from possible harm, then he would do it without question. He was a husband and a father, and it was his duty to keep his family safe no matter how much Tony decided to protest.

"Okay, sweetheart, okay," he whispered. "But in the meantime, I'm going to try as hard as I possibly can to make sure none of this happens."

"That's why we're all doing what we're doing, honey," said Tony, his arms tight around Steve's waist. "Whatever it takes, right?"

"Yeah. Whatever it takes."

_Except for that._

* * *

Peter popped another piece of popcorn into his mouth from the huge bucket sitting on his lap, washing it down with a quick sip of Dr Pepper. His right hand was entwined with Gwen's, having been so since about five minutes into the movie when something had made her jump, and her head was leaning comfortably against his arm. He had dressed in four separate layers in addition to his jacket, knowing that movie theatres were usually cold, but there was so many warm fuzzies radiating up his arm and across his chest from Gwen's touch that at the moment he was almost _too_ warm.

But there was absolutely no way that he was complaining. Not at _all._

_Guess Uncle Bucky was right after all._

He strongly suspected that Uncle Bucky was reporting back to his dads, if not quite a play-by-play synopsis then at least on a regular basis, which he was actually okay with. Maybe it would help them see that even though he happened to be the son of two of the Avengers, he could still just be a normal kid who wanted to spend some time with the girl that he liked.

The girl who apparently liked him back, which was even better.

Peter shifted slightly in his chair, causing Gwen's fingers to tighten and send another bolt of warmth up his arm. They were watching Rogue One, a movie Peter had already seen twice before, and it was almost time for the big climactic battle scene to begin.

He even had thought to grab some extra napkins, just in case Gwen started to cry towards the end. Auntie Nat had cried when she saw it with him, so he wanted to be prepared.

Gwen jumped as a huge, booming explosion filled the massive screen, her grip on Peter's hand tightening just as the strange dude who had been sitting behind Peter suddenly got to his feet, hurrying up the centre aisle like he had gotten spooked or something. Peter glanced back in Uncle Bucky's direction and gave him a nod, letting him know that he and Gwen were fine and there was no need to worry. Peter had noticed the guy when they had first sat down, thinking it was weird that he didn't have any snacks or drinks and was sitting so ramrod straight in the otherwise comfortable reclining chairs, but since his Spider Sense hadn't gone off at all he had decided that the guy was just a bit different, and hadn't really thought much about him since.

"Oh no!" Gwen exclaimed as one of Peter's favourite characters in the whole movie, Chirrut, bravely made his way through a barrage of enemy fire to flip the switch that Bodhi needed to activate the communications array. Peter gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, biting his lip to brace himself for what he knew was coming.

The battle on the screen continued, with Gwen burrowing closer to Peter with nearly every explosion. She had already been sniffing a bit ever since K2SO's brave last stand, and now Peter could sense that she was starting to suspect what was about to happen.

"You didn't tell me this movie was gonna be so sad!" she whispered into his arm, flinching as yet another one of the Rebels was shot by an enemy Stormtrooper.

"Sorry," Peter replied. "Didn't wanna spoil anything."

"Don't think I would've minded a little warning in this case!" Gwen sniffed. "Now I'm thinking that everyone's gonna die!"

Peter squeezed her hand again, passing her one of the napkins just as a grenade landed inside the Rogue One ship, and proceeded to explode right in Bodhi's face.

Since he had already seen the movie two previous times, Peter was able to anticipate most of the explosions and brace himself against the noise. Uncle Sam had suggested that he try to wean his dependence on his earplugs during one of their recent talks, thinking that if Peter was better able to keep his senses under control during normal daytime activities that it would maybe help with the severity of his nightmares, and so far it actually seemed to be working. Whether it was due to the fact that maintaining his focus without the extra help was so exhausting that he was simply too tired to dream or he was actually getting better Peter hadn't yet figured out, but he was pretty much to the point where he didn't care _how _the nightmares went away, just that they _did._

Gwen was openly crying now, dabbing at her eyes with the crumpled-up napkin and half-hiding her face in his shoulder. Peter was debating whether to try and extricate his hand from hers so he could put his arm around her shoulders, when he suddenly felt the all-too-familiar ice bolt race down his spine just as the floor literally started to shake beneath his shoes.

_What the hell?_ Peter thought, hoping against hope that it was just some sort of weird movie magic with the theatre when another freezing bolt shot down his back. He sat bolt upright in his chair, knocking Gwen's head off his shoulder as he whipped around to see Uncle Bucky already on his feet, heading towards them.

"Peter? What's wrong?" Gwen asked, her eyes going wide as the floor shaking grew even louder and more violent. A second later Uncle Bucky was at Peter's side, the fingers of his good hand curling around Peter's forearm just as another hard shiver wracked his body, and his ears picked up the horrible sound of cracking wood and plaster.

"Uncle Bucky!" Peter shrieked, jumping back as lava-like flames suddenly shot up through the cracks in the floor, twirling as they rose up higher and higher until they had formed what could only be described as some sort of horrible fire demon.

"Holy _shit!"_ Peter cried as he pulled Gwen to her feet, placing her behind him and cursing the fact that he hadn't brought a set of web shooters with him. His dads had taken his suit away, but Peter had built no less than three extra sets of web shooters since then, and usually had a set on him at all times just in case.

_I am never leaving the Tower without them again!_

Although, he wasn't exactly sure how helpful they would be against the fire demon, who was now busy chewing through the metal supports holding up the massive movie screen, sending it crashing to the floor.

"Peter, what is that?" Gwen cried into Peter's ear, gripping his arm as the fire monster let out an absolutely bellowing roar, one so loud it nearly blew Peter off his feet.

"Птер, Гвен, you need to come with me," said Uncle Bucky as he yanked them both towards the emergency exit near the front of the auditorium. But they had only taken a couple of steps before the monster roared again and turned, blocking their path as it absorbed the lit Exit sign. It looked like it had nearly doubled in size in just the few seconds that Peter's back was turned, and was now so big that it filled almost half the auditorium.

"Oh no!" Gwen screamed as the monster swung its fiery arm, hitting the wall near the ceiling and causing it and the ceiling to come crumbling down, completely blocking the exit door. Uncle Bucky jumped back, shielding Gwen with his body as Peter leapt onto what remained of the wall, attempting to stabilise it so the rest of the ceiling didn't collapse as well. He could hear the screams of the rest of the panicked moviegoers who were now trapped inside the auditorium, with the main doors completely engulfed in flames and the emergency exit blocked by mountains of smoldering wood and drywall.

_I gotta get these people out of here! _Peter thought frantically as the monster swung again, knocking Peter from his perch on the wall and onto the sticky and gross theatre floor. Peter grimaced as he saw that he had barely avoided landing on top of a wad of gum that was almost the size of his fist, quickly getting to his feet to find Uncle Bucky trying to punch through the wall with his metal left arm, with Gwen still held tightly in his right.

"Птер!" shouted Uncle Bucky as he practically tossed Gwen through the hole he'd made in the wall, ducking just in time to avoid being slammed by the fire monster's arm as it swung, taking out another huge chunk of ceiling that blocked the hole he'd just made. Peter could hear the sound of sirens appreciating from the distance, both police and fire, but he had a sinking feeling that not even the strongest fire repellant would be enough to put out the monster, who was still growing larger as it consumed every bit of metal that it came across.

And there were still at least a dozen people trapped in the auditorium with him. Helpless, innocent people who he needed to save.

"Uncle Bucky, stay with Gwen!" Peter yelled, locking eyes just long enough with his beloved uncle to show him that he was serious. Uncle Bucky's metal arm would only attract the monster, and that plus the fact that he couldn't reveal his enhanced abilities without blowing his cover meant that he just needed to get Gwen to safety and let Peter take care of the rest of the people.

"Please!" he pleaded. "This is all happening because of me, so I need to make it right! You can help coordinate the first responders out there, but just make sure that Gwen's all right first, okay?"

"She's gonna wonder what happened, you know she is!" warned Uncle Bucky. "And your dads—"

"They'll understand!" Peter said, ducking as the monster swung again, grunting and coughing as a wall of pure heat smacked him across the face. "They'll probably show up in a few minutes anyway, so I'll make them understand. Just… please make sure that Gwen's okay!"

With a somber shake of his head, Uncle Bucky slapped his palm against the remains of the wall and disappeared outside, shouting instructions to the people already gathered outside to move away from the theatre. Peter waited until he was completely out of earshot before grabbing a discarded baseball hat from the disgusting floor and shoving it onto his head, pulling the hood of his hoodie up over it. He didn't have anything to cover his face, but he highly doubted that anyone would be looking too closely at who he was as he attempted to figure out a way to get the trapped people free.

Scanning the smoke-filled auditorium, which now closely resembled one of the lava worlds that he liked to play on Minecraft, Peter raced up the side of the wall to what remained of the ceiling, just barely managing to avoid the monster's swinging fist as he dropped down in front of the stunned cluster of moviegoers, all huddled together in the corner.

"Look out!" one of them screamed, pointing over Peter's head as the monster's fist slammed onto the floor, opening another gaping chasm of liquid fire. Peter yelped as he leapt onto the back of one of the chairs, assuming the knees-out position that Auntie Nat had taught him to better balance on narrow surfaces. The floor strike had managed to light the debris blocking the main doors on fire, consuming the pile as it burned, so maybe all Peter needed to do was—

"Okay," he gasped under his breath as he gripped the back of the chair next to where he was perched. Yanking it free, he twisted slightly and launched it directly at the flaming pile, blowing a hole through the weakened wooden doors that was just wide enough for the people to get through if they went single file.

"Go, go, go, get out of here!" Peter yelled, pointing towards the doors before grabbing onto another seatback and throwing it as well, widening the hole enough for the rest of the group to get through. Less than a split-second later the demon roared again, swinging its flaming arm and hitting the row of seats where Peter was perched, forcing him up onto the last remaining wall as it began to advance towards him, its creepy-ass face twisting into something that resembled a proud, triumphant smile.

"_Longing!" _the monster yelled directly into Peter's mind, its stomping footsteps causing the wall to vibrate beneath Peter's fingertips as he squeezed his eyes closed, fighting the urge to clap his hands over his ears even as he knew it wouldn't do any good.

"_Rusted!" _the monster thought-screamed as it advanced another couple of steps, so close that Peter could feel its heat hitting him in waves, clouding his vision and searing his lungs as he gasped for breath.

"_Furnace!"_

"_Daybreak!"_

"_Seventeen!"_

"No, no, no! Please, stop!" Peter screamed, slapping at his right ear with his palm and begging himself to not hear them, to not hear those words that he knew would cause him to drop right down into oblivion yet again. He could already feel his hold on the wall weakening, already sense his mind slipping away from him, when suddenly a police officer broke through what remained of the main doors, his gun raised and aimed directly at the monster.

"Freeze!" Chief Stacy called, emptying at least five shots directly into the monster's head before he realised that they were having absolutely no effect on it at all. His hands dropped to his sides, his face a mixture of shock and awe as he looked up at Peter just as the monster slammed its fist down onto the floor, sending a rippling wave of lava-covered floor directly at Chief Stacy and slamming him against the busted-up remains of the opposite wall.

"Oh no!" gasped Peter, shaking his head in a feeble attempt to clear it as Chief Stacy's body hit the wall with a sickening _thunk_ and he slid to the fire-covered floor, going completely limp. Peter just knew that Gwen had sent her father in there to look for him thinking he'd been trapped by debris or something, and there was no way Peter was going to let him be further injured because of him.

Digging his heels against the wall, Peter leapt onto probably the last intact chair, pausing only long enough to catch his balance as he jumped towards the broken wall next to Chief Stacy, grabbing onto his arm and hauling him up across his shoulders into a fireman's carry. Peter could feel the man's breath on his neck, so he knew he was at least still alive, but Peter also knew that the air was getting dangerously thin with the continued fires, and his mind was still sluggish from the unfinished trigger words.

Peter drew in as deep a breath as he could before driving his elbow into the wall three times in rapid succession, forming a spider web of cracks across it as he tried to break a hole big enough for Chief Stacy to fit. He cried out in pain as massive wood splinters and razor-sharp pieces of drywall drove through all of his layers of clothing and into his skin, trying to maintain his grip on the wall with his sweaty fingertips as the monster let out yet another deafening roar.

Gritting his teeth, Peter had just managed to get the hole big enough to shove Chief Stacy through when a bolt of lightning appeared, striking the fire demon directly on the top of its head. The monster immediately roared again, looking up towards what remained of the ceiling as Thor suddenly dropped out of the sky and disappeared inside it.

"Run, young Starkson!" Peter heard as lightning bolts burst out from inside the monster, merging with the electrical charge from Auntie Nat's Widow's Bites and Uncle Clint's arrows, which Peter just happened to notice were made from wood and fibreglass rather than metal.

Uncle Bucky must have warned Dad and Papa to stay away since the monster was attracted to metal. Or at least, non-Asgardian metal.

"Peter, get the hell out of here!" added Auntie Nat, flipping away from the monster's fist as Thor launched more lightning bolts from his hammer. The monster let out a final, bellowing roar as it exploded, shooting lines of fire in all directions just as an armoured hand poked through the hole in the wall and wrapped around Peter's arm, yanking him through.

"Jesus Christ, Pete, what the hell were you doing?" Dad yelped, his helmet retracting as he fell to his knees, crushing Peter to his chest. Papa's shield dropped to the ground as he rushed forward, gathering them both into his arms.

"Oh my God, Peter!" Papa sobbed into Peter's hair as he dragged them away from the burning building, finally collapsing about ten metres away. "We thought we were gonna lose you!"

Tears stung Peter's dry, scratchy eyes as looked up into his father's worried face. "D-daddy, where—where's Gwen? And—and her dad, he—he came inside, and—and then the m-monster t-tried to—and… is Uncle B-bucky okay? Where—where is he, 'cause—?"

"Uncle Sam took Uncle Bucky back to the Tower as soon as he got here, little guy," Papa said. "He's gonna take care of him, so you don't need to worry."

"And your friend is all right, Pete, she's with a couple of the police officers," Dad added, his fingers combing through Peter's singed and matted hair. "And Stacy's gonna be okay too." He paused, pursing his lips. "One of the other officers said that you saved his life, so…"

"The monster was gonna kill him!" Peter gasped, choking as he tried to breathe in. "D-daddy, it was—it was t-trying to—it almost—and Uncle B-bucky, are we sure he's okay, 'cause—?"

"We know, Peter," Papa said softly, kissing the top of Peter's head. "Uncle Bucky could hear the words in his mind too, which is why Uncle Sam got him right out of here as soon as possible. He wasn't gone yet, but he was slipping."

"It was Mr Stacy that stopped it," Peter cut in, still coughing. His entire body was shaking, either from adrenaline or fear, he couldn't quite tell, and his mind was so foggy he was surprised he could still speak. "He came inside and distracted it just long enough for it to stop—"

"Peter! Oh my God, are you okay?" Gwen shrieked as she practically dove onto the ground next to Peter, reaching a tentative hand towards his cheek but then changing her mind as she glanced in Papa's direction. "I thought you had gotten trapped in there or something, so I told my dad to—" She paused as she noticed Peter's bleed-soaked sleeves and scraped-up fingers. "Oh my God, you're bleeding! Mr Stark, he's bleeding, aren't you gonna take him to the hospital?"

"We have a dedicated physician on her way here just for Peter, Miss Stacy, so there's no need to worry about him getting adequate medical care," Dad said tersely as Peter scrabbled futility for a handhold on his armour, trying to make himself as small as possible. All he wanted at the moment was to go home, away from the smoke, away from the fire demon, away from those horrible words trying to overpower his mind.

"Okay, but are you sure?" Gwen insisted. "'Cause they're taking my dad to the hospital, so why doesn't Peter just go with him? He's probably got smoke inhalation, and burns, and his arms and fingers are bleeding, and—"

"Gwen, _please_, just—" Peter said, or rather, squeaked into Dad's chest. He knew she was just worried about him, but her voice was rapidly reaching dog whistle levels in pitch and his head already felt like it was splitting in two.

"I can assure you that Peter will be well taken care of, young lady," Papa said in his Captain's voice. "Now, is there someone we can call for you?"

Peter watched as Gwen's shoulders dropped, and she nodded, gently patting Peter's shoulder. "One of the other officers already called my mom, and she's trying to find someone to watch my brothers so she can get to the hospital."

"I'm sure we can help with that," Papa said kindly. "Tony?"

"Yeah, I'll get Happy on it," Dad said with a sigh. "But we're gonna get Pete home first."

Gwen opened her mouth as if to protest again, but then snapped it closed as Dad lifted Peter into his arms, carrying him towards the medical Suburban driven by Uncle Bruce that had just pulled up to the curb.

"I'll call and check on you later, okay, Peter?" Gwen called after them, with Peter barely managing a weak nod in reply. As soon as Dad set him down on the stretcher and pulled off his blood-soaked hoodie he curled onto his side, clamping his hands over his ears and trying not to flinch as Dr Cho listened to his chest and started treating his cuts and scrapes. It took her almost an hour to dig all of the splinters and bits of plaster out of Peter's skin, with Dad and Papa practically having to sit on him to help him hold still so Dr Cho could stitch him up.

"There, there, little guy, you're safe now," Papa said once Peter was finally cleaned up and settled in his bed, his bandaged elbow propped up on an extra pillow. Papa was trying to sound reassuring, but even in his pain-induced delusional state Peter could still make out the thick edge of fear and anger in his voice, and still sense the worried looks that he and Dad were exchanging over his head.

This attack brought the total to three which was scary enough, especially since this one had almost triggered Uncle Bucky as well. But now they also had to deal with the fact that Peter had very likely revealed his identity to Gwen's father, who as far as they knew still had orders to arrest the vigilante known as Spider-Man on sight.

And while Peter knew that his dads didn't blame him at all for what had happened, he also knew that at the moment, they had absolutely no idea of what to do next.

* * *

"Tony, please talk to me," Steve whispered into the semi-darkness of Peter's room. Peter had fallen asleep not too long after Helen had gotten him fixed up and he'd had something to eat, but it was a very fitful sleep, filled with whimpers and jerks and the occasional cry for help that if Steve hadn't been there along with him, Tony wasn't sure if he'd be able to handle it. He had been trying to project the façade that he was perfectly fine for so long while Steve had been wrestling with his own demons, that now he was afraid if he let his guard down for even a second, he would just collapse into a huge puddle of goo.

At Peter's insistence, they had called the hospital to check on George Stacy, whose wife had informed them that he had suffered only a broken pinky finger and a mild concussion and would be discharged the following day. Mrs Stacy had also thanked them profusely for both the security guards who were watching her children and what she called, "Peter's life-saving heroics," saying Gwen had told her that Peter had risked his own life to save her husband, and that if he or they needed anything at all to let her know.

And Tony wasn't upset with Peter for saving Stacy. It was absolutely the right thing to do, and in Peter's shoes both he and Steve would have done the same, but that didn't mean he wasn't terrified of the possible implications of it. Concussions often messed with a person's memories, so there was a slight chance that Stacy might not even remember exactly how Peter managed to save him. But if he did…

If he did, then they likely had a new and very big problem.

_Why didn't I figure it out sooner?_

_Why didn't I do more?_

"Please, sweetheart?" pleaded Steve, shifting so he could reach for Tony's hand. "You have that look on your face again, and—"

"I'm just thinking, honey, okay?" Tony said, trying to not sound too snippy. "Got a bit on my mind."

Steve shot him a frown. "You're feeling guilty. And don't try to tell me you're not because I can see it written all over your face, and there's just no reason for it, sweetheart. No reason at all. There was no way we could've known that Raxton guy was gonna be at the theatre today when we didn't even know what he looked like."

"Steve, I know that already," Tony said impatiently. "But… damn, honey. This time the goddamn monster almost triggered _Bucky_, and if that would've happened—"

"But it didn't," said Steve.

Tony scoffed. "Blind luck that it didn't."

"Maybe," admitted Steve. "But at this point I'm willing to take any luck that we can get."

"Mmm." Tony tipped his head back, thudding it against Peter's headboard. "Go to sleep, hon, yeah? I'll be fine."

"No," Steve said, sounding so much like a snarky Peter that Tony almost did a double-take. "No, I'm not gonna just let you sit here and brood all night over something that you had absolutely no control over."

Tony shot his husband a deep, menacing frown, almost growling when Steve gave it right back to him. "See? I can do it too."

"You're so goddamn stubborn," Tony grumbled.

"Maybe, but I'm not the only one," Steve replied. "Now, how can I help?"

Tony huffed out a sharp breath, his expression softening as he looked over at Steve, bathed in the moonlight streaming in through Peter's bedroom windows, the faint beams highlighting the lighter blond strands in his hair and causing his blue eyes to seem even more striking than usual.

"God, you're gorgeous," he whispered, his heart lurching when Steve blushed and gave him that soft, _aw shucks_ smile of his that Tony absolutely adored. It was times like this when he really wished that he could paint or draw even a fraction as well as Steve could. Steve had drawn and painted countless pictures and portraits of Tony, and of Peter as well, and it just wasn't fair that he couldn't do the same for Steve.

Someone that breathtaking deserved to be immortalised in as many different art forms as possible, especially when not even photographs were enough to do him justice.

"Now you're just trying to change the subject," Steve whispered as he leaned close enough to kiss the tip of Tony's nose. "Please, tell me what's on your mind?"

"It's definitely a long shot," Tony said after a short pause. "And I'm not even sure if we should attempt it, 'cause if it doesn't work then we'll probably wind up with even bigger problems than we've already got, but—"

"Tony—"

"Yeah, yeah, okay. I was thinking, those glasses that Beck demonstrated, I think it might be possible to use those to sort of reverse the Winter Soldier programming in both Pete and Bucky." He held up his hand as Steve let out an excited gasp. "Now, before you go getting too excited, right now I can't think of a way to do that without actually saying all of the trigger words in sequence, and believe me, I've tried. But if I can get this thing to work the way that I think I can, once the words are spoken the device would just kind of neutralise them inside their subconscious, essentially removing HYDRA's influence."

Steve was quiet for a moment, his jaw twitching slightly as he thought. "You know Bucky would do it," he finally said. "Especially if he thought it would help Peter as well."

"Yeah, I know," Tony replied. "I would just have to make damn sure that I'm right about it, 'cause if I'm not we're gonna wind up with a fully functioning Winter Soldier on our hands, and one whose last programmed mission was to kill you."

"I don't believe Bucky would do that," Steve said softly. "He's stronger than that, especially if he knows that it's coming. But Tony… I'm not sure about Peter. He's only a child, and—"

"I know, honey." Tony brought Steve's hand to his lips, kissing his knuckles. "Helen and I were talking a bit while you were making Pete's food earlier, and we're thinking that when Obie and Killian were trying to convert him down in Miami that his mind set up some kind of self-defence system against the programming, which is why he goes into a coma whenever he hears the trigger words."

"So instead of accepting whatever mission HYDRA tried to give him, he just shuts down instead," Steve said in a rush, tears welling in his blue eyes. "Oh my God, Tony. He's only a child, and yet he's just so strong! They were using Loki's sceptre on him, and he was still able to resist it!"

"Exactly." Tony's lower lip quivered as he recalled Peter lying in that hospital bed as still as a corpse, completely unresponsive. It had been one of the worst things he had ever experienced with Peter, second only to when he stopped breathing out in the middle of the Afghanistan desert.

Even when Peter had been in the NICU as a baby he was still able to respond to Tony's voice and touch, but that time when he'd been comatose, that had been a whole new level of horror.

And then it had happened _again._

"I don't think I could handle him being under like that again, Steve," he admitted. "I don't—I just can't—"

"Shh, sweetheart," Steve whispered, brushing his fingers across Tony's lips. "Don't worry about it now, okay? Try and get some rest, I know you haven't been sleeping well lately."

But Tony only shook his head. There was no way he could sleep with the way his mind was swirling, and especially not with Peter whimpering like he was being beaten every couple of minutes.

And especially not after the news JARVIS had given him right after Peter had finished eating, while Steve was helping him brush his teeth.

"Not gonna happen, babe, sorry. You go ahead though."

Steve's face fell, but he nodded anyway, knowing it was useless to argue. Instead, he shifted again so he could curl his arm around Tony's shoulders, tucking him against his chest and kissing the top of his head.

"Just rest a bit then, okay?" he whispered. "And maybe you'll fall asleep in spite of yourself."

"Not gonna say no to my favourite space heater," Tony murmured. He burrowed in a bit closer, closing his eyes as he wished that he could unsee the words JARVIS had flashed across his tablet screen while Steve's back had been turned.

Because while JARVIS hadn't yet been able to determine who had accessed Quentin Beck's renegade server after their infamous meeting, the UI _had _been able to determine what data had been accessed.

Which meant that someone else, someone likely affiliated with either the government or HYDRA, now had a complete schematic of one of Tony's Iron Legion suits, and while whoever it was likely wouldn't have the proper materials to build one of their own that was actually functional, that didn't mean that they wouldn't try.

And if by some godawful chance they actually were to succeed… especially if they were to use some of the stolen Chitauri tech that still had yet to be recovered, then…

Hitler had had gas chambers, Khrushchev nuclear weapons, Sadaam Hussein biological agents, and now President Graham Cole… his own virtually unstoppable iron army.

* * *

**_I can't wait to see what you think! Please don't hesitate to leave me a review! :)_**


	11. Chapter 11

_**This chapter is a bit on the fluffier side, as I think our boys deserve a bit of a break! Please also be aware that I have changed the rating from T to M, as there is a scene about 2/3 of the way through that I felt pushed the T-rating a bit too far. :) I hope you enjoy!**_

* * *

Tony tilted his head as he studied the drone hologram in front of him, making a few final adjustments to the targeting system. He had been able to almost double the firing range on the various units stationed around the Tower, to the point where they could now reach Peter's school if necessary. This unfortunately came with the unpleasant side effect of revealing their existence in order to fire, but at the moment Tony couldn't see a way around it.

_Oh well._

Scrubbing a palm down his face, Tony heaved a sigh as he closed out the hologram. "Go ahead and start the render on these, J, I wanna be able to get 'em installed ASAP."

"Very good, sir."

"And run another diagnostic on your security systems once that's done, just to be extra safe."

"I have completed three such diagnostics in the last six hours, sir," said JARVIS. "I am unsure as to what another would accomplish at this time."

"Just humour me, okay, J?" Tony said, suppressing an eyeroll. "Just trying to make extra sure no one can get access to any of my stuff."

"There have been no attempted firewall breaches since you implemented the new security protocols, sir," said JARVIS. "It appears you have scared them off."

"Yeah, for now," Tony muttered under his breath. "Doubt it'll hold 'em off forever, but it's at least a start."

_But they shouldn't've even been able to get through in the first place, goddamnit. How could I have been so damn stupid?_

Since the Iron Legion was developed mainly for the protection of the Damage Control convoys, Tony had been storing their schematics and other information on a dedicated Damage Control server, one that apparently either Quentin Beck or whoever he was spying for was able to find and hack into using the coding patch that Beck wrote for JARVIS all those years ago.

_And there's no way in hell that's gonna happen again,_ Tony thought bitterly. _No fucking way._

"Render is complete, sir," JARVIS said. "Would you like me to begin with the unit assembly, or run the diagnostic first?"

"Do the diagnostic first, J, yeah? Make sure there's nothing funky before the assembly."

"Very good, sir."

Closing out the drone hologram, Tony next brought up the schematics of the MAUDE glasses, tapping his chin as he studied the code that he'd written the day before. Beck had stated during their meeting that the combination of the glasses plus the CTX-616 drug had enabled the system to tap into the user's hippocampus, allowing the user's memories to basically be projected onto an external infrastructure. At first Tony had thought he was going to have to figure out a way to accomplish the same type of connection without using the drug, something that would have taken many months of research and experimentation and likely cost a ton of money as well, when it suddenly hit him a few days ago that the very people he was planning on using the tech with, Bucky, Peter, and maybe Steve, already had the drug in their systems. Even after being treated with the Aminacin antidote, Bruce could still find traces of CTX-616 in all three of their bloodstreams and in Steve and Bucky's spinal fluid, and Tony was hoping it would be enough to enable the tech to work without having to expose them to any additional doses of the drug.

Expanding the hologram, Tony quickly become so engrossed in his work that he didn't even realise Peter had entered the lab until he opened his mouth, nearly causing Tony to jump out of his skin.

"Jesus, Pete," Tony gasped, pressing his palm over his racing heart. "You gotta give me a warning or something when you come up behind me like that, okay?"

"Sorry," Peter said sheepishly. "Just wanted to let you know that dinner's almost ready. Papa's making tacos since Uncle Thor's coming up, so…"

Tony drew in a deep breath as he nodded. Thor had become quite fond of both Sam and Steve's cooking since he'd been back, and had taken to requesting certain meals when he didn't feel like ordering his usual pizzas or fried chicken deliveries.

"Sounds good, buddy," Tony said. "You got all your homework done?"

Peter gave a nod. "Almost, just got a bit of history to finish with Papa after dinner. He asked me to wait so he could do it with me."

"Good, good. You know how much Papa loves his history."

"Yeah." Peter fell silent then, his eyes narrowing as he studied the hologram floating in front of them. "How's this coming?"

"Eh, it's coming," answered Tony. "I'm hoping to get it done before we leave for Italy, that way we can test it once we get back."

Peter nodded again, stepping around the hologram as he studied it while Tony watched him fondly. Peter had always been curious, to the point where it often got him into trouble when he was little, but the fact that he could simply look at a complex hologram and almost instantly understand it was something that both amazed Tony and filled him with pride at the same time. There was no doubt in his mind that Peter was someday going to change the world with his brilliance, and when that day came, he and Steve would be right there in the front row, cheering him on.

"So, what do you think?" he asked once Peter had circled the whole thing. "Got any suggestions?"

Instead of answering, Peter reached inside the hologram, expanding a small section and leaning in closer. "Can I tweak something in here?"

"Sure. Have at it, bud."

Peter bit his bottom lip as he fiddled with a tiny section of the interface, adjusting one of the settings in such a way that would allow it to connect with the user almost twice as fast as Tony had originally calculated, reducing the margin of error and allowing the user that much less exposure to the electromagnetic field. While the field itself wasn't considered to be dangerous, Tony had postulated that prolonged exposure to it could eventually lead to headaches, as the human imagination wasn't really designed to be outwardly projected.

"There," Peter said with a rather triumphant smile. "Look okay?"

"You know it does, buddy," answered Tony as he ruffled Peter's hair, earning him a playful scowl. "I should just let you do all the tinkering here, it'd probably get done faster."

"Nah," Peter said, giving Tony one of his papa's _aw shucks_ grins. "Speaking of it, though, there's something I was gonna ask you about it."

"Oh, yeah? Shoot."

Peter gulped as he looked down at his long, piano-player fingers that reminded Tony so much of his own mother. It still saddened him from time to time that Maria Stark never had the chance to meet Peter, because Tony had no doubt that she would've adored him. Aunt Peggy had done her best to fill in for that grandmotherly role, at least until her mind got too far gone for her to remember him, but it still wasn't the same.

"I know you said that you were gonna use this on Uncle Bucky," Peter began. "And that you said—"

"That's because Uncle Bucky volunteered for it, Pete," Tony cut in. "There's no way I'd force it on him, you know that. And he can still change his mind if he wants to, but for right now he's volunteered. And he's an adult, so he's allowed to do that."

"No, I know that," said Peter. "What I was gonna say is… I'd like to do it too. The experiment. I wanna do it."

Fear hit Tony like a sledgehammer, and he curled his hand around his left forearm, squeezing it against the burning pain. He and Steve had been afraid something like this would happen, but they had both just sort of pushed it off to deal with later, not wanting to have to think about it too much.

"Pete, I thought we've already talked about this," he said. "Papa and I said that there'd be no need for you to—"

"Yeah, you and Papa said there'd be no need," interrupted Peter. "Especially if it worked on Uncle Bucky."

"Which it will," said Tony. "I'll make sure that it does."

"I know that, Dad, and that's exactly why I wanna do it too." Peter's eyebrows knitted together as his huge brown eyes filled with tears. "I just… I _hate_ it. I _hate_ knowing that those words are still buried somewhere deep inside my mind, where no one can reach them except the bad guys, and I just… I just want them _gone._ And if this contraption can make them go away for good, then I wanna use it."

"Oh God, Pete," Tony gasped as he pulled Peter into a tight hug, burying his nose into his green-apple-scented curls. "Buddy, you're so young, it's just so goddamn wrong that you're having to deal with any of this in the first place."

"Maybe," Peter said into Tony's chest. "But the fact is that I am having to deal with it, and I just don't want to anymore. I just want it gone, Dad, all of it. I'm sick of having a ticking time bomb stuck inside of me, and I just want it out of my head." He tipped his head up to look into Tony's eyes. "Please? I don't—I don't want other people to get hurt again because of me. That's not what heroes do."

Tony's breath lodged in his throat at Peter's statement, at how much he sounded like Steve as he said it. He cupped his son's cheeks in both hands, unable to even form words as he stared at him in awe.

_They are so much more alike than they'll ever realise._

"Dad?" Peter asked when Tony didn't respond. "Please?"

"We'll have to talk about it, Pete, okay?" he finally said. "You, me, and Papa, we'll all talk about it together once it's ready, and we can decide then."

"But—"

"That's how it's gonna be, buddy," Tony said firmly. "There are risks that come with using this thing that we need to make sure everyone understands before anyone goes near it, okay? And I'm not sure if I'm willing to allow you to take that risk. Not yet, not until we all talk it through first."

Peter pursed his lips as he sighed, finally nodding. "Fine. I'm sure dinner's ready by now, so we should probably get into the kitchen before Uncle Thor eats it all."

"You go on, I'll be there in a couple minutes," Tony said, planting a quick kiss on the top of Peter's head. "Just wanna double-check a few things first."

"Uh huh," Peter said as he shuffled out of the room, with Tony's shoulders sagging once he was out of sight. He should've known Peter would ask him something like that, and he honestly couldn't blame him. He couldn't imagine what it must be like, knowing that someone had wrapped a noose around your subconscious and could tighten it at whim.

"Did you run that diagnostic yet, JARVIS?" Tony asked as he closed out the holograms.

"I did indeed, sir. The diagnostic yielded no anomalies."

"Good. Go ahead and start on the drone assembly then, yeah? I'd like to get those installed—"

"As soon as possible. Yes, sir, I heard you the first time," said JARVIS. "Are you wishing to replace all of the current units?"

Tony thought for a moment. "No, only enough for the east side of the Tower since those would be the ones that would fire towards the school anyway."

"Very good, sir. Estimated length of time required for the assembly is eight hours."

"Sounds good." Tony picked up his coffee cup, frowning when he saw that it was empty. "Any word back yet about getting in to see Toomes?"

"I have received no reply as of yet from Agent Bartlett, sir," JARVIS said. "Would you like me to put in another call to his office?"

"Tomorrow morning, if you don't mind," said Tony. "Dude's probably left for the day already."

"Very good, sir. Oh, and there is also a message from Senator Davis, wishing to inform you that the final Damage Control convoy departed from Washington D.C. as scheduled."

"Oh goody," Tony muttered. "Hopefully now he'll leave me alone for awhile."

"Are you willing to bet on that, sir?"

Tony smirked towards the ceiling. "What do you think?"

"I'll take that as a 'no', then."

"Good call."

He found his two boys and Thor already seated around the kitchen table, with an already filled plate and a fresh cup of coffee at his place next to Steve. Tony planted a quick kiss on his husband's cheek before sliding into his chair, ignoring Peter's wrinkled nose as he took a big gulp of the coffee.

"So, Uncle Thor was thinking about maybe taking Gwen and me to a hockey game sometime," Peter said, picking up a fallen bit of cheese from his third taco. "And we were kinda hoping we could go before we leave for spring break, so… you guys think that'd be okay?"

Tony watched as Steve paused in mid-chew, glancing furtively in his direction while Thor stuffed at least half a taco into his mouth and reached for another.

"Yes, yes," Thor said once he'd downed most of his glass of lemonade in three huge gulps. "It would be my honour to escort young Starkson and his sweet lady friend to the revelry you people like to call hockey. Especially since Starkson has informed me it is that much more exciting to view these sporting events while they take place in the arena than on the viewscreen."

"I've been telling Uncle Thor about when we've gone to the baseball games," Peter said. "And then he asked if we could maybe go and see one of the hockey games, and since I'm not gonna be able to see Gwen at all while we're gone, I just thought maybe we could go…"

His voice trailed off as he looked over at Steve, pleading silently with those puppy-dog eyes of his that he knew neither Tony nor Steve could resist. It had been almost three weeks since the fire monster attack at the movie theatre, which, aside from a few local news stories, had garnered a surprisingly small amount of attention for an Avengers-level type of threat. Thanks to Bucky and Peter's heroics no one inside the theatre had been seriously injured, and the Stark Relief foundation had already covered all of the medical bills and the salaries of the first responders involved, which Pepper had made sure to let slip to the media.

And while Tony wasn't complaining too much about not getting hounded by reporters, the fact that it almost seemed as though the news outlets were being discouraged from reporting on the incident did not sit well with either Steve or Tony. Natasha and Clint had attempted to question Raxton inside the theatre after Thor had taken him down, but they weren't able to get much of anything from him aside from the fact that he had been experimented on at the Mongolian bunker, and that he had been programmed to go after Peter.

And then Raxton had disintegrated, just like the guy had at the lake, which meant there was now only one more name from the list that was still unaccounted for.

"Are you sure you'd be able to handle being that close to ice, little guy?" Steve said gently. "And the hockey arenas are always pretty cold, so you'd have to make sure that you stayed warm enough."

"I know," Peter said, swallowing hard. "And yeah, I think I'd be okay. Gwen doesn't know about the ice, so…"

He left the rest of his sentence unfinished, but Tony caught his meaning anyway. Being with his friend would force Peter to act as if everything was fine, a tactic that Tony was all-too-familiar with.

And Steve was as well, now that he thought about it.

Sam would call that avoidance, and Tony supposed that Sam would be correct, but hell, sometimes it was just a hell of a lot easier to not think about everything that sucked in your life and try to have some fun anyway.

"You think Auntie Nat and Uncle Clint would feel like going too?" Tony asked. "I can arrange for one of the luxury boxes, that way there shouldn't be too much scrutiny, and—"

"I can ask them!" Peter said excitedly. "I'll ask them as soon as we're done eating!"

Tony felt Steve's hand reach for his under the table, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "As long as we have someone inspect the box beforehand, I guess I'm okay with it," Steve said. "But Peter, we're gonna need you to stay with Uncle Thor at all times, okay? No going off on your own."

"I'm okay with that!" exclaimed Peter, bouncing up and down on his chair. "Oh, thank you, I can't wait to tell Gwen!"

"You might want to make sure that Gwen can go before you get too excited, little guy," said Steve.

"Well… I kinda already asked her," Peter said, rather sheepishly. "And her mom and dad both said it was fine since Uncle Thor was gonna be with us."

"Yes, apparently I am quite popular with the children here on Midgard," said Thor through another mouthful of taco. "Something about studying Norse mythology during their schooling?"

"Yeah, it was that book that I showed you," said Peter. "Your whole family is in it. The one that Ned asked you to autograph?"

"Ah, yes, yes, your round friend," said Thor. "I rather enjoy his company, will he be accompanying us to the hockey as well?"

"Um, I s'pose I can ask him, but it was kinda just supposed to be another date for me and Gwen, so—"

"I think three chaperones for a hockey game date are enough, buddy," said Tony. "If things go well you can invite Ned another time."

"Yeah, and he's not really all that much of a fan of hockey anyway," Peter mumbled. "And he and Betty have been hanging out quite a bit lately too, so they might even have plans already."

Thor reached for the last taco on the platter, breaking it in half. "Well, then it is settled. And I thank you again for allowing me to share in your evening meal with you, my wonderful friends."

"'Night, Uncle Thor," Peter said, grimacing as Thor clapped him on the shoulder, still munching on what remained of his taco.

"And before you guys ask, no, Gwen's dad hasn't said anything about what happened at the theatre," Peter added as soon as Thor was out of earshot. "Or at least not to her."

Steve shot Tony one of his worried looks. "That's good, Peter," he said. "But that doesn't mean that he never will, so… we still have to be careful."

"I know, Papa, and I am," Peter replied. He quickly downed the rest of his lemonade, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. "Can I be excused now?"

"As long as you load your dishes into the dishwasher," said Steve.

"Uh huh. You gonna come and do history with me when you're done, Papa?"

"I'll be there soon, little guy, just gonna talk to Dad a bit first," Steve said with a nod. "Don't start without me."

"Uh huh."

"You sure you're okay with this hockey game idea, sweetheart?" Steve said once Peter had skipped towards his room. "You were being pretty quiet during the discussion."

Tony gave what he thought was a nonchalant shrug, one that of course Steve saw right through.

"Tony—"

"I'm not worried about the hockey game, honey," Tony said with a sigh. "Or at least, not too worried. Thor pretty much single-handedly took out both of those semi-enhanced monsters that attacked Pete, so I'm pretty sure he'll be safe enough with him."

"Then… what?"

Tony shook his head as he gulped down the rest of the coffee in his cup, the hot liquid burning a fiery path down his throat and causing his eyes to water.

_This whole thing just really fucking sucks!_

"Tony?"

"Yeah, babe," Tony said, clearing his throat. "Pete, he came in earlier while I was working on the MAUDE glasses interface to tell me that dinner was ready. I let him take a look at it, and he tinkered with the design a bit like he often does, and then he asked me if once I got it figured out, if he could do the experiment along with Bucky. He told me that he felt like a ticking time bomb with those words just floating around down there in his subconscious, and—" Tony paused, looking into the concerned eyes of his husband, those striking blue eyes with just a hint of Irish green. "I know we've already told him that he's too young to make those kind of decisions, especially since we don't know if this will actually work or not, but Steve… do we really have the right to tell him that he can't try, just because we're scared of what might happen? Isn't that just really goddamn selfish of us?"

Steve was quiet for a moment, his thumb tracing soft circles on the back of Tony's hand. "I do think it's selfish, yes," he finally said. "But I also don't think it's very wrong of us to be selfish in that way. He's our son, Tony, and it's our job to protect him. And in certain cases I think that includes protecting him from himself."

"Which I completely agree with," Tony said. "Hell, there's no telling what that kid would be out there doing without us putting our foot down all the damn time. But honey, I don't think we can tell him no here, I just don't. If we try this experiment on Bucky and it works, then Pete should have the option of trying it too. He deserves to be free of HYDRA's poison."

Almost instantly Steve's face twisted into an expression of such anguish that tears welled in Tony's eyes. "Honey—"

"You're right, sweetheart," Steve whispered as he pulled Tony onto his lap, burying his face in his neck. "He does deserve that. Both he and Bucky deserve to be free of it, but—I just—I just don't know if I'm—if I'm strong enough—if it doesn't work, and we _lose _him… oh God, I don't—I couldn't take it, Tony, there's just no _way."_

Tony threaded his fingers through Steve's hair, massaging his scalp with his fingertips. "If it were anyone else, I'd tell you that you didn't have to worry," he murmured. "I'd tell you that I was absolutely certain that it'll work because I've always been able to get my stuff to work."

"Except that time when you got hit by an airplane," Steve murmured into Tony's neck.

"Huh? No, that's not because something didn't work," Tony insisted, rolling his eyes. "That was because I couldn't tell Rhodey what was going on with the suits, and—did you really have to bring that up _now?_ Really?"

Steve shook his head, his arms tightening around Tony's waist. "I'm sorry, mo grá. I just… I think that was the first time that I realised how far gone I was. How much I loved you. I remember I was in my room trying to draw when you landed outside on the landing pad, and then when I came into the kitchen and saw you all bruised up and bleeding all over yourself, I just—and you were so casual about it, like getting knocked out of the sky by a fighter jet was just another day at the office or something, and I couldn't understand how you couldn't see how important you were to me, and—"

"Steve, it's okay," Tony assured him. "I'm here, aren't I?"

"I know you are," said Steve. "Just like I know that Peter's in his room right now, waiting for me to help him with his homework. But Tony… I guess I just never thought I'd have to live in constant fear of losing one or both of you, and now… it's like we're stuck between a rock and a hard place. I don't want Peter to suffer, and I can't imagine how awful it's been for him, and for Bucky too, but at the same time—"

"Shh, honey," Tony whispered. "If it helps at all, I'm just as scared. I've had to watch Pete battle some pretty serious stuff in his short lifetime, but that coma down in Miami, that was the worst of it. If you hadn't been there with me, well… let's just say it wouldn't've been pretty." He pressed a kiss to Steve's forehead, suppressing a shudder at the awful memory. "But all that being said, I still think we're gonna have to let him do this. If Bucky goes through with the test and it's successful, our fear won't be a good enough excuse to say no."

Steve flinched, burrowing further into Tony's neck. "I know you're right. I just really, really wish that you weren't."

They sat there silently for several minutes, until a slight cough made Tony raise his head to find a confused Peter standing in the kitchen doorway.

"Um… what's going on? Are you guys okay?"

"Yeah, little guy, we're okay," said Steve. "Dad and I were just talking a bit."

"While he was sitting on your lap?" Peter asked warily. "Wait, nevermind, I don't think I wanna know. But I'm ready to do my homework now if you guys are done… talking."

"You'll understand when you're older, Pete," said Tony as he slid off Steve's lap, smirking when Steve palmed his ass. "Much older."

Peter rolled his eyes, mumbling something under his breath that Tony couldn't quite catch as he watched him disappear down the hall with Steve. His husband and his son, his two boys who he never thought he'd have, and now couldn't live without.

Pursing his lips, Tony refilled his coffee cup and headed back to the lab, pulling up the MAUDE schematic.

"All right, JARVIS," he said as he took a big sip of coffee. "Let's do this."

* * *

Madison Square Garden was already packed to the gills as Peter, Gwen, and their three chaperones made their way through the winding concourse up towards the luxury boxes. Uncle Thor was leading the way, but since he was pausing every few seconds to sign an autograph or smile for a photograph, it was taking literally forever for them to get to their seats.

"Goddamnit, Thor, I want a beer!" Uncle Clint called from the back of the line as Uncle Thor stooped down to smile with yet another one of his "adoring fans," a little boy who looked to be about six or so. "Can't you do all this some other damn time?"

"Is your Uncle Clint always this grumpy?" Gwen whispered when they finally arrived in their suite, with Uncle Clint making a beeline for the bar as soon as they stepped inside.

"Nah, he's actually in a pretty good mood tonight. When he's grumpy you don't really want to be around him, just in case he decides to throw a dart at your head," Peter answered. He grabbed two bottles of Dr Pepper from the refrigerator, handing one to Gwen. "But he's also not someone bad guys would wanna mess with either, so it doesn't really bother me when he gets grumpy."

"Ah. Then I suppose it's okay as long as he doesn't throw a dart at your head," Gwen said, her eyes going wide as she looked around the massive suite, taking in the expertly laid out platters piled high with all sorts of yummy appetizers that Uncle Thor and Uncle Clint were already busy sampling.

"Hungry?" asked Peter as he handed Gwen a plate, his own stomach already rumbling.

"This is… really nice!" Gwen stated as she worked her way down the food line, taking a bit of everything as Peter piled his plate high with shrimp, meatballs, and wings. "You sure seem like you're hungry!"

Peter shrugged as he sat down by the huge windows that overlooked the arena, popping a meatball into his mouth. "Dad likes to joke that I have hollow bones. You should see our grocery carts when Papa and I go to the store."

"Yeah, I bet. And I thought my brothers were bad," said Gwen. She bit off part of a shrimp, chewing it slowly. "Speaking of my brothers, they keep asking me when you're gonna come over again. Especially Simon, he seems pretty smitten with you."

"He is? Why?" Peter asked, confused. "I've only met them that one time."

Gwen's cheeks flushed that pretty pink colour that Peter adored. "Well, they all think you're a hero after what happened at the theatre. I mean, my mom practically never stops talking about how you saved my dad, and how grateful she is for the guards your dads sent over so we could stay at the hospital with him, and my dad also told me that your dad's foundation covered all the salaries for the first responders that day and covered his hospital bill, so… yeah. I know they'd love the chance to meet your dads sometime."

"Well, maybe I can ask my dads if we can all get together for dinner sometime," said Peter. "I'm sure they wouldn't mind." _Especially since we still don't know if Chief Stacy figured out that I'm Spider-Man. _

"That sounds good," said Gwen. "Maybe after you guys get back from your trip?"

Peter gave a nod as he bit off part of another meatball. "Okay. I'll ask them."

"Yes!" Uncle Thor suddenly shouted from the opposite end of the suite, nearly causing Peter to drop his plate. "That is yet another victory for our beloved Rangers!"

"Dude, the guy's going into the penalty box," said Uncle Clint through a mouthful of something. "He got called for slashing!"

"Yes, yes, but he was victorious in his slashing," said Uncle Thor, raising his beer bottle. "Therefore he must be celebrated!"

"Um… I don't think he really understands the rules of the game," Gwen whispered to Peter.

"No, and I've given up on trying to explain them to him," Peter answered. "He mainly just likes watching all the fights."

Gwen's eyebrows knitted together as she nodded. "Oh. Well, I'm sure he's not the only one."

"No, probably not. Uncle Clint doesn't mind the fights either, but he likes watching football over hockey anyway. We tried taking him to a baseball game once and he fell asleep."

"Oh," Gwen said, giggling. "How'd your papa take that?"

"Eh, Papa didn't mind too much," Peter said with a shrug. "Uncle Sam still teases him about it, though."

"But only if he's in a good mood?" asked Gwen.

Peter grinned. "Yep. You're learning pretty quick."

"Well, I hope so. I am the second-smartest student in our class, you know."

"Ah, I see! So then you've finally admitted to yourself that I'm smarter than you?"

"Nope," Gwen deadpanned. "I was talking about Ned."

Peter immediately choked on his mouthful of Dr Pepper, prompting Gwen to pound on his back.

"That was mean!" Peter wheezed, his eyes watering. "I mean, Ned's brilliant and all, but—"

"I'm pretty sure everyone in the class knows how smart you are, Peter," Gwen said, her green eyes twinkling as she looked at him. "I figured it out on my first day."

Peter smiled again as he set down his plate, leaning back in his chair just as Uncle Thor erupted into another round of raucous cheering. The Rangers had scored a goal.

"I love this game!" Uncle Thor exclaimed as he bit into another wing. "We must do this more often!"

"Long as they have beer, I'm all for it," said Uncle Clint. He and Auntie Nat were sitting on one of the couches facing the huge viewscreen, cuddled up together with her legs over his lap.

"Are they a couple?" Gwen whispered, her breath on Peter's neck sending a flurry of warm fuzzies throughout his body. "Your Uncle Clint and Auntie Nat?"

"Uhh, I honestly don't know," Peter whispered back. "They act like that a lot, but they don't live together or anything, so… kinda, I guess? I'm not really sure if any of us understand their relationship."

"Oh. Well, I suppose whatever works for them is okay."

"Glad you approve," Peter said, his cheeks flushing hot when Gwen gave him one of _those_ smiles. He tentatively reached for her hand, his breath hitching when her fingers curled around his, ignoring the amused snort that Uncle Clint shot their way a second later. Gwen's hands were so soft, nothing like his own which were drier and more calloused from working in shop and chemistry and in Dad's lab at home. Peter had suffered from pretty bad eczema as a little boy, and while he hadn't had to worry about that since his enhancements started to emerge, he still doubted that he'd ever be able to get his skin as baby-soft as Gwen's.

They held hands for the rest of the game, through Uncle Thor's shouts of glee every time the Rangers scored and Uncle Clint's curse-filled lament when a last-second opposing goal caused them to lose the game. The walk back to Gwen's house afterwards was way too short, and as he brought her up to her front door and gave her a goodbye hug, Peter could hardly believe that they had actually made it through a date without something terrible happening.

"Talk to you tomorrow?" Gwen murmured, her arms tight around Peter's neck. If he had been feeling brave he might've even tried to kiss her goodnight, but he really, really didn't feel like having his very first kiss in front of a live audience, especially since he knew that Uncle Clint would both give his dads a complete play-by-play, and never let him hear the end of it.

He would just have to hope that they could get together without guards or chaperones sometime soon. Maybe after spring break was over they could plan another date.

"Definitely," he said as he squeezed her waist one final time, taking care not to squeeze too hard. "I'll call you, okay?"

"Okay. Goodnight."

"'Night."

Peter watched as she stepped inside her house, pausing to wave at him from the window by the door as he stepped down the stairs to join his aunt and uncles.

"What, no goodbye kiss?" said Uncle Clint as they headed across the street.

"Yeah, right," Peter said, shivering as he stuffed his hands into his pockets to try and stay warm. Now that Gwen was gone the heat was seeping from his body in waves, and while it wasn't exactly freezing outside anymore, it was still plenty cold. "Like I'd do anything like that in front of you."

"Well, that just proves that you haven't kissed her yet," Uncle Clint retorted, giving Peter a rather cheeky smirk. "Otherwise you wouldn't be so touchy about it."

Peter shot him a harsh glare. "I'm not touchy about it, just—"

"Yeah you are, kiddo, but it's okay," said Auntie Nat, elbowing Uncle Clint hard enough in the ribs to cause him to yelp. "There's no need to rush that stuff, you've got plenty of time."

"Yeah," Peter muttered rather petulantly under his breath. "We've got plenty of time."

He found both Dad and Papa sitting in the living room when he got home, trying to pretend they weren't waiting up for him but too relieved that he was home to really hide it. He gave them a brief synopsis of the game, including when Uncle Thor's picture flashed up on the huge screen inside the arena as he cheered during one of the on-ice fights.

"I'm so glad that you had fun, little guy," Papa said as he tucked him into bed a few minutes later, kissing his forehead. "Maybe next time we'll all go."

"Yeah, only if Thor promises not to shout with glee every three seconds," Dad said as he took his turn kissing Peter goodnight. "And I thought _I _was boisterous."

Papa chuckled as he patted Dad's shoulder. "Thor does tend to be a bit loud, but I suppose that also helps him be a better bodyguard. Scares people away."

Peter inwardly rolled his eyes. "Am I always gonna need a bodyguard, though? I mean, I don't mind going places with them most of the time, but… well… Gwen and I, we'd kinda like to be able to—"

"Peter—" Papa started, his mouth snapping closed when Dad grabbed his hand.

"We can talk more about that once we get back from our trip, okay buddy?" Dad said. "It's only a couple more weeks."

"Uh huh," Peter said with a sigh. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Peter," said Papa. "Sleep tight."

"'Night, buddy," said Dad.

As soon as they left the room Peter grabbed for his phone, trying to decide whether or not to text Gwen. He doubted that she'd be asleep as she had told him before that she tended to be a night owl on the weekends, but he didn't want her to get in trouble with her parents either.

He had just made up his mind to wait till tomorrow when the phone buzzed in his hand. It was Gwen.

_**You still awake?**_

_**Yeah. Everything okay?**_

_**Oh yeah. My dad gave me a bit of the third degree, but not as bad as I thought he would. I think he's finally decided that you're worthy of my time ;).**_

Peter grinned. _**Well, that's a relief.**_

_**Doing anything interesting tomorrow?**_

_**Nah, just homework and stuff. Probably help Dad in the lab a bit, and I'm sure Papa will find some chores for me to do.**_

_**Yeah, I know a bit about chores.**_

_**Yeah, I bet.**_

_**Well, talk to you tomorrow?**_

_**Definitely.**_

_**:) Goodnight, Peter. I had a lot of fun tonight.**_

_**Me too :D Goodnight, Gwen.**_

Smiling so wide that his cheeks hurt, Peter replaced the phone on his bedside table and clutched his polar bear to his chest as a wave of sensation washed across him, remembering the feel of Gwen's tiny hand in his own, and the way she had hugged him as they said goodnight.

Unless Peter was just completely misreading her signals, which he admitted was still a possibility, it definitely seemed like Gwen like-liked him.

And if her dad was even starting to soften a bit towards Peter, then maybe they really would get to go out sometime soon without their superhero bodyguards, and Peter would finally get the chance to kiss her. Spring break was in less than two weeks, and if their upcoming trip to Italy was as relaxing as Dad was hoping it would be, then maybe even Papa would finally be able to calm down a bit too.

'_Cause we may have plenty of time, but I still don't want to wait any longer than we have to._

* * *

Steve tucked his pencil down inside the wires of his sketchbook and tipped his head back against the lounge chair, allowing the last remnants of the setting sun to wash over him, filling him with the warmth that he craved with every fibre of his being. The sketchbook resting on his lap was filled with drawings that he'd sketched over the course of the last few days, of his family enjoying themselves. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt relaxed enough to draw like that, just for fun, like he always used to before—

Well, _before._

This holiday had been so good for the team. Not only had they all been working their fingers to the bone pretty much ever since the ice incident up at the Compound the previous summer, but Steve also hadn't quite realised just how low the overall team morale was getting until he noticed an immediate difference almost as soon as the jet departed New York City's airspace.

And it hadn't taken him too long to figure out why. Technically, before the semi-enhanced villains started showing up, the Avengers hadn't ever lost a battle. They had won the Battle of New York against the invading Chitauri, thanks in large part to Tony's self-sacrificing flight with the nuclear rocket through the open space portal. They had also won the Battle of the Triskelion and the battle down in the Miami bunker against Stane and Killian, but Steve couldn't honestly say that the team had actually won any of their fights since then. At best, they had only achieved stalemates.

And in those battles, they had almost lost Peter three separate times.

But these last few days, filled with nothing more strenuous than sunbathing and playing frisbee on the beach, lazy meals on the patio of their villa, sightseeing in a town where they were hardly recognised, and lots of alone time with Tony, had managed to recharge Steve in such a way that he could almost say that he felt like his old self again.

Almost.

He drew in a deep, slow breath, smelling the salt in the air from the Mediterranean Sea just a few metres away and feeling his limbs grow heavy with it, almost sinking into the plush cushions of the lounge chair. He could hear Thor somewhere a bit further down the beach, no doubt telling Bruce and Clint yet another one of his grand tales of victorious Asgardian battles, while Tony and James discussed the latest upgrade Tony had made to James's War Machine armour, one that Peter had helped design. Peter had gone into town a couple hours ago with Bucky, Nat, and Sam to shop for souvenirs to bring home, which Steve assumed also would include a nice gift for his lady friend.

The trip had even helped him to relax a bit more about that, or more specifically, about George Stacy. So far there hadn't been any indication from Stacy that he suspected that Peter really was Spider-Man, and while Steve was still wary, he was also immensely grateful for it. There were already plenty of suspicions and rumours floating around as to the real identity of the Spider-Man, especially since the Daily Bugle owner J Jonah Jameson seemed to enjoy publishing outrageous new theories on almost a daily basis, but like Tony enjoyed pointing out, rumours were a long ways away from the actual truth.

Even if in this case, the actual truth and the rumours just happened to be one in the same.

He was just on the very edge of a light sleep when calloused fingertips suddenly brushed softly across his forehead, burying into his hair. A wide smile stretched across Steve's face as he opened his eyes to find Tony looking down at him, that smirky half-smile on his lips that only Steve ever saw.

"Hey, hot stuff," Tony murmured as he picked up Steve's sketchpad, setting it down on the nearby table before crawling onto the chair next to him. Steve curled his arm around Tony's shoulders and pulled him close, burying his nose into his husband's hair, slightly mussed from the sea breeze but still as soft as ever.

"Mmm, hey yourself," he said. "Is Peter back yet?"

Tony breathed in as he burrowed closer. "Actually, Sam just called, and apparently they stumbled upon some sort of carnival or something that Pete wanted to check out. I told him it was okay as long as they didn't let Pete out of their sight, and I know Sam's got Redwing and Nat's got her Bites on her, so…"

Panic flashed through Steve, just for a second before he was able to squash it down. There hadn't been so much as even a flicker of trouble since they'd landed in Italy four days ago, and Peter was with three of their team members who Steve knew would protect him with their lives if it came down to it.

"Sure, that's fine," he said past the knot in his throat. "Do you know when they'll be back?"

"Sam said probably in a couple of hours, but you know how Pete gets when he's at stuff like that. As long as he has a running supply of food, I could see them staying until they close for the night."

"Yeah, I could see that," Steve said with a chuckle. Peter's love for any kind of amusement park seemed to be only second to his love for Legos and chemistry.

"I made sure JARVIS has a continuous lock on his phone too, honey, so he'll be fine." Tony said gently. "He's with three of our team members, they're not gonna let anything happen to him."

Steve nodded into Tony's hair. Sam was smart to have called Tony with that particular question rather than Steve. "I know, sweetheart, and I'm okay. Really."

Tony's arm tightened across Steve's waist, his fingers slipping underneath the hem of his t-shirt to ghost across his skin, causing him to shiver.

"Yeah, you do seem like you're okay," Tony said as he tilted his head, pressing a slow kiss to Steve's neck. "I think this trip's been pretty good for you."

"Mmm, I think you're right," Steve said. He let out a soft moan as Tony's lips found that sweet spot of his right below his jaw, his eyes fluttering closed at the sharp bolt of sensation that shot through his body.

"_Tony."_

"Mmmhmm?" Tony murmured as he kissed that spot again, smirking when Steve let out a shudder. "You say something, honey?"

Instead of answering, Steve pressed him even closer, cupping his jaw and angling it up so he could capture Tony's lips. The kiss started out sweet, even somewhat chaste, but then he felt Tony's tongue swipe across his bottom lip and he gasped, shifting Tony so he was now straddling his lap as Tony's tongue plundered his mouth, tasting him. Tony's hand tightened in Steve's hair as their kisses grew deeper and more frantic, giving it a slight tug and pulling a whimper from Steve's throat, just a second before he had to abruptly pull away in order to catch the frisbee that was aiming directly for the back of Tony's head.

Flushed and panting, Steve's eyes narrowed at the plastic disc clutched in his hand as Tony turned in his arms to see Clint about ten metres up the beach, nearly doubled-over with laughter.

"God_damn _you, Barton!" Tony called as Steve made a very poor attempt to adjust himself. "You think you're so damn funny, don't ya?"

"That's 'cause I am!" Clint answered, clinging to Thor's arm for support as he caught his breath. "So why the hell don't you two get a room and spare us the unwelcome sideshow, eh?"

Tony huffed, grabbing the frisbee from Steve's hand and launching it back in Clint's general direction before turning to Steve, looking up at him through his impossibly long eyelashes.

"I don't know, babe. I'd hate to give Barton any inclination that he was actually right here, but—"

Steve stopped him with a firm kiss to his lips, just long and exaggerated enough to make Clint groan. "Hey, sweetheart," he said, rather impishly. "Wanna get a room?"

Tony's beautiful brown eyes dilated so fast that Steve was surprised he didn't swoon. "Oh, _hell_ yes!"

They nearly tripped over each other in their mad scramble to escape the lounge chair, with Steve grabbing onto Tony's waist once they were upright, practically carrying him inside the villa to their bedroom. As soon as the door was closed and locked behind them he turned towards Tony, backing him up against the wall.

"God, that's so hot," Tony breathed, his palms landing flat against Steve's chest as Steve cupped his cheek, bringing their lips together in a bruising kiss. Any fear that might've been lingering in the back of his mind about Peter was quickly forgotten as Tony's hands moved around to Steve's back and slid down to slip underneath his t-shirt.

"Off," Tony gasped into Steve's mouth as he slid the t-shirt up his abdomen, his fingertips searing heat into Steve's skin with every touch, just like they had ever since the very first time he brought Tony to his bed. They had been together now for over three years and married for almost two, and yet Tony's touch was still able to completely electrify him every single time they were intimate.

Reaching behind him, Steve tugged the t-shirt over his head and tossed it aside, his breath catching when Tony palmed his biceps, stroking up to his shoulders and down to his pecs, his thumbs brushing lightly across his nipples.

"You like that, don't you baby?" Tony murmured, kissing and nibbling across Steve's neck to his collarbone. Steve nodded frantically as he fumbled with Tony's shirt buttons, getting frustrated towards the end when the tiny round circles refused to cooperate and just ripping the shirt off of him.

"You know I do," Steve growled as he slid his arm underneath Tony's knees, picking him up and carrying him to their bed. He crawled up over top of him, his knees pinning Tony's hips in place as he looked down into his husband's eyes, dark and lust-blown and so full of love he felt he could've drowned in them.

"Is breá liom tú," he whispered, trailing his thumb across Tony's cheekbone. "Is breá liom tú an oiread sin. Inis dom conas is féidir liom tú a shásamh."

"Holy shit," Tony rasped. "I have no idea what you just said, but it sure sounded sexy as hell." He grabbed onto Steve's ass, rolling his hips up against him and pulling a low growl from Steve's throat as pleasure shot through his body like a spear. He squeezed his eyes closed, trying to get himself under some semblance of control. He was so aroused that it was almost painful, but he desperately wanted to take his time with Tony while they had this rare opportunity.

"I said that I love you, and I want to please you," he said as he started trailing kisses along Tony's jawline, down to his neck as he slipped one hand underneath Tony's ass and pressed him up against him, with Tony's knees hiking up to hook over his hips. "Tell me what you want, mo stór. Tell me how I can make you feel good."

Tony immediately grinned, taking Steve's face in his hands and kissing a path to his ear, whispering, "How 'bout I suck you off first, baby, yeah? Help take the edge off a bit?"

"Oh God, Tony," Steve groaned as Tony pushed lightly against his shoulder, indicating for him to lie on his back. It was almost frightening sometimes, how well Tony could read him. "You don't—you don't have to—"

"Shh, honey," Tony whispered as he draped his glorious body over Steve's, pressing him down into the mattress as his lips trailed across Steve's pecs, pausing to flick his tongue across both his nipples as his hand slid down his sternum and abs to pop the button on Steve's shorts and lower the zipper.

"_Tony,"_ Steve said on a gasp as Tony slowly glided his shorts and underwear down his legs and onto the floor. Steve hissed as Tony's nimble fingers wrapped around his aching erection, his back nearly arching off the bed as Tony's lips teased the burning hot skin of his thighs and pelvis while he stroked him.

"Tony, _please!" _Steve begged, his hands fisting into the sheets as Tony moved to press wet kisses all along the length of him before finally taking him into his mouth. His vision nearly whited out as Tony practically swallowed him down, grunting as Steve wove his fingers through Tony's hair, careful not to press down too hard and choke him. Tony had told him not too long after they got engaged that he absolutely loved giving Steve blowjobs, loved to watch Steve's face as he lost all control and surrendered to the pleasure that he gave him. And while Steve could've also said the exact same thing about Tony, at the moment he was too lost in a hazy sea of sensation to form much more than a few muttered curses and some garbled attempts at Tony's name.

And then Tony slid his hand under Steve's ass, squeezing it as he hummed around him, and Steve cried out as he came, harder than he had in a long, long time.

It felt as though an hour had passed by the time he had regained some semblance of feeling in his limbs, peeling his eyelids open to find Tony resting his chin in the curve of his hip, a very self-satisfied grin on his face.

"Like that, baby?" Tony whispered, pressing another kiss to Steve's hipbone.

"Wasn't it obvious?" Steve's words were slurred like he was drunk, his limbs deliciously heavy as Tony kissed his way back up Steve's abdomen and chest to his mouth. They laid there wrapped in each other's arms for what seemed like hours, just kissing languidly until their lips were swollen and Steve was achingly hard again.

"_Steve," _Tony gasped as Steve flipped them so he was on top again, grinding his hips down against Tony's. "You're so good, baby, so good to me."

"Tell me what you want, mo grá," Steve murmured as he slid Tony's loose shorts and underwear down his tanned, toned legs, tossing them over his shoulder. He traced his fingertips down Tony's temple to his jaw and across his full bottom lip, in absolute awe of the beautiful man lying beneath him. "Tell me how I can pleasure you."

"Steve, I just want _you,_" Tony said as Steve started trailing soft kisses across his cheek and down to his neck, latching onto his pulse point. "Please, just—"

"Can I have you tonight, sweetheart?" Steve asked, brushing his lips across Tony's in a soft kiss. "Please?"

"God, _yes,_" Tony murmured. He jerked his head in the direction of the bedside table. "Lube's in the top drawer."

Steve smiled at Tony's forethought as he opened the drawer, finding the small bottle Tony had stashed there. For as how often as they were intimate, Steve was still hesitant sometimes to—as Tony liked to put it—fuck him, nervous that he would somehow hurt him, and thankfully Tony didn't push him to do so more often than he felt comfortable.

But on a night like this, when he could take his time and make sure that Tony was completely relaxed and ready for him, it was heavenly.

And take his time he did.

He started at Tony's neck, kissing and nibbling and caressing across his husband's beautiful olive-toned upper body, sucking marks into the skin below his collarbones and spending ample time on the kaleidoscope of scars marking the centre of Tony's chest, where the arc reactor had once been. Tony had never admitted to Steve that he was self-conscious of the arc reactor but Steve knew he was anyway, and had always taken special care to lavish attention to it, so grateful that it was able to keep the man that he loved alive.

And now that it was gone, Steve made sure to lavish just as much attention to the scars that had taken its place, the raised constellation of skin that covered Tony's healthy, beating heart, the very same heart that he had given to Steve so freely and completely, and that Steve cherished more than his own life.

He then moved down to Tony's abdomen, dipping his tongue into Tony's navel before following the dark line of hair down to his erection, giving him a few teasing licks as he lubed up his index finger and gently pressed it inside him.

"Damnit, Steve, I'm ready!" Tony said on a gasp as Steve carefully worked him open, all the while pressing kisses to every available bit of flesh he could reach. "Please, baby, now you're just teasing me!"

"Not yet, mo grá. I'm not gonna hurt you," Steve murmured into Tony's thigh as he added a second finger, with Tony's limbs going taut as he brushed across that magic spot inside him. "There's no need to rush."

"You're not gonna hurt me, honey," Tony pleaded, growling in frustration. "Please, I need you right the hell—"

Tony was cut off as Steve added a third finger, his hands clutching the sheets in a white-knuckled grip as he writhed against Steve's hand. "Baby, _please!"_

Slowly, Steve withdrew his fingers, chuckling as Tony immediately grabbed for his shoulders, pulling him up for a deep, sloppy kiss. "You gonna fuck me now, _Captain?"_

"No," Steve murmured as he tucked a pillow under Tony's hips. "I'm gonna make love to you."

Tony gulped, his eyes glassy as he nodded, and he reached for Steve's ass as Steve slowly pushed inside him. He paused once he was completely sheathed inside, breathing in a few deep breaths and taking in the incredible sight, smell, and feel of his beloved. It was as though he and Tony had been made for each other, how well they fit together, and for Steve, who once thought he would never get to experience something as incredible as this, the first few seconds were always a bit overwhelming.

"Steve… baby, please move," Tony whimpered, rolling his hips up and causing Steve to gasp. He bent his head to gently kiss him and then propped himself up on his elbows, not breaking their eye contact as he started to move. His heart skittered at the sight of Tony beneath him, so incredibly beautiful with his glistening face twisted in ecstasy and his lower lip caught between his teeth, that Steve almost wished he could pause for a moment and sketch a picture, or even just snap a quick photograph so he could forever capture this image of his gorgeous husband. He had an entire sketchbook that he kept hidden away in his sock drawer that was filled with various drawings of Tony. Working in his lab, lounging on their bed, and many of the two of them just as they were now, naked, their bodies joined together. But he had yet to capture to his satisfaction the exact moment when Tony broke apart, the exact moment when he completely surrendered himself to Steve.

"Oh mo grá, I love you. You feel so amazing, I love you so much," Steve said as he brushed his lips across Tony's cheek, skimming his hand down Tony's arm to intertwine their fingers, bringing their joined hands up next to Tony's head. Tony's eyes fluttered closed as Steve's lips found that spot at the juncture of Tony's neck and shoulder, sucking another mark into his skin as he snapped his hips forward with a loud groan.

"Oh fuck, Steve, you're so good," Tony moaned, hoarse and raw, with each word accented by the quick pants of breath that meant he was getting close. "So fucking good, baby, you're too good to me."

"Shh, my love," Steve whispered as his lips closed over Tony's, the pleasure that had been lapping at him like the warm waves of the Mediterranean suddenly spiking as their tongues met and danced together, condensing into a tight ball deep inside his gut when Tony nipped at his bottom lip. Tony's free hand dropped from Steve's back to try and sneak between their bodies but Steve pushed it away, wrapping his own fingers around Tony's erection and stroking him in time with his thrusts.

"Oh shit, baby," Tony said as he clenched down hard around Steve. "I can't—I'm gonna—_fuck!"_

"That's it, sweetheart," he said as Tony's mouth dropped open, his grip on Steve's fingers tightening. "God, you're so beautiful, I wanna see you come for me!"

And then Tony's back arched up off the bed, his entire body shuddering and his blunt fingernails digging into Steve's skin as he came all over Steve's hand, pulling Steve over the edge with him only a few seconds later as their combined cries of pleasure echoed off the walls of their bedroom. Steve collapsed down onto Tony, taking care not to crush him as he pressed gentle kisses into the damp skin of his cheek and neck.

"Christ, baby, you're incredible," Tony murmured into Steve's shoulder, his fingertips trailing along Steve's sweaty back and sides. Steve raised his head, softly kissing Tony's lips before carefully pulling out of him and rolling onto his back, gathering Tony into his arms and drawing the sheets up over them. He knew they should probably get cleaned up and get something to eat before Peter and the others got back, but he was too relaxed, too content, too satiated at the moment to even want to move, much less attempt to make it into the shower that seemed way too far away at the moment.

So he simply tightened his arms around his husband, whispering another, "I love you," into Tony's ear and closing his eyes as Tony threw his leg across Steve's lap and tucked his head under his chin.

And they didn't wake until the sun was shining brightly the next morning.

* * *

Tony shifted in his seat, careful to avoid jostling a sleeping Peter as the jet began its early-morning descent into New York, heading for its usual runway at LaGuardia. Steve had suggested that they depart Italy in the evening, hoping that Peter would then sleep most of the flight home and avoid as much jet lag as possible, which turned out to have been a pretty brilliant idea when Peter conked out almost as soon as the plane took off. He had spent almost their entire last day on the beach building a massive sandcastle with Bucky and Thor and playing frisbee with Clint, allowing Tony and Steve a bit more of the alone time they had so enjoyed over the course of the week. The trip had turned out to be everything that he and Steve had wanted it to be, and while he had missed tinkering in the lab, he had definite mixed feelings about returning back to the intense grind that was their current mission.

Stifling a yawn, Tony glanced over at Steve, sitting across from him with his nose buried in a book, some manual on war strategy that looked to be almost as old as he was. His normally pale skin was slightly tanned thanks to hours and hours spent on the beach, making his sun-bleached blond hair seem even lighter in contrast. He had missed one of his every-other-week haircuts while they were gone so the ends of his hair were curling slightly around his ears, and the overall effect was so unbelievably sexy that Tony had half a mind to try and pull him into one of the restrooms on the plane before it landed, to hell with Clint and his constant needling.

Peter woke with a start almost as soon as the jet touched down, adorably confused and disheveled and wondering what time zone they were in as the team collected their luggage, waiting for Happy to give them the signal that it was safe to disembark.

"Okay there, buddy?" Tony asked as Peter attempted to swing his backpack over his shoulder, nearly knocking himself off-balance in the process.

"'M tired," Peter mumbled as he tried again with the backpack, this time missing his shoulder completely as it landed on one of the adjoining seats. Steve let out a chuckle from behind him as he picked it up, placing his free hand on Peter's shoulder.

"You can head right to bed when we get home if you want, little guy," he said, in that kind, fatherly voice that he always used with Peter. It never failed to amaze Tony how complex Steve was, how he was so much more than just the persona that the public saw, the symbol they knew as Captain America. There was his Captain's voice that he used in the field or when giving instructions to the team, there was his polite-but-cool voice that he used with members of the press or people he didn't know well, there was the sweet-but-firm fatherly voice that he used with Peter, with more emphasis on either the sweet or the firm depending on the situation, and then there was what Tony loved to call his bedroom voice, that low, husky voice he reserved only for Tony that could get his blood racing in about zero point two seconds.

And it was even sexier when he added in his hot-as-hell Brooklyn accent.

"No, I think I'm too hungry to sleep," answered Peter. "Can we please stop and get some food on the way home?"

"Sure, bud, I'm sure Thor and Bucky are hungry. Oh, and Papa too."

"Yes, Papa could use something," Steve said with a wink. "But only if Dad promises to eat too."

Tony playfully rolled his eyes, ruffling Peter's hair as Happy stepped onto the plane looking concerned.

"There's a federal marshall waiting for you and Captain Rogers on the tarmac, sir, she says she has something important to give you," he said. "I asked her what it was but she wouldn't tell me, I don't know what you wanna do."

Tony's belly gave a swoop as he looked over Peter's head at Steve, his worry wrinkle already on full display. They had avoided the news coverage on purpose while on their trip, but Tony had specifically asked JARVIS to inform them of anything that he presumed to be vital information, and he hadn't said a word about anything the entire week.

"Maybe it has something to do with Toomes or that Smythe guy?" Steve said. "One of them could've talked?"

"Yeah, maybe," Tony replied, even as he highly doubted it. He gave Happy a begrudged nod. "Let's just get it over with, yeah?"

Climbing down the stairs, Tony shuffled Peter over to stand with Rhodey and Thor as Happy led he and Steve over to the young, brunette woman casually leaning against their car, two folded up pieces of paper in her hand.

"Mr Tony Stark?" the woman asked as he approached. "Captain Steve Rogers?"

"Yes, that's right, Ms…"

"Just call me Marshall," she said, briefly flashing her badge before holding out the papers towards Tony and Steve. Tony immediately stepped back, relieved when Steve reached for them both. Even after all this time, he still didn't enjoy being handed things from strangers.

"What's this about, ma'am?" asked Steve as he opened his paper, his eyes narrowing as he skimmed it. "The Armed Services Committee?"

"That's right, Captain," said the marshall. "You and Mr Stark are hereby ordered to appear in front of the Senate Armed Services Committee in Washington D.C., the day after tomorrow at nine am."

"But… why?" Steve asked, frowning. "Surely there's—"

"I don't know the whys, Captain, I just deliver the subpoenas," she said. "And now that you've been served, I'll be on my way."

"Yeah, okay," muttered Tony, barely noticing her walking away as Steve handed him his paper, his lips pursed in anger.

"That's the day that Peter goes back to school, Tony, how can they do this? Now we won't be able to be there, and—"

"It's okay, honey, it's probably just a routine something-or-other to check on the status of the Damage Control stuff," Tony said, not too convincingly when Steve's frown grew even deeper.

"But then why can't they just do another conference call?" he asked. "And why would they need me when I'm not officially associated with Damage Control?"

Tony heaved a sigh, reaching for Steve's hand and squeezing. "I don't know, babe, okay? You're right, it doesn't make sense for them to ask for both of us. But we can just fly down there tomorrow night with Rhodey when he heads back, see what this is, and then come home right afterwards, okay? I'm sure Thor and Sam will be happy to get Pete to and from school, they've done it before."

Steve's lower lip was shaking as he nodded. "Yeah. Okay."

"Okay," Tony repeated, trying hard to keep his expression neutral even as he wanted to scream at the unfairness of it all. Steve had been so relaxed, so happy before they had walked off the plane, and now it was all shot to hell in only a couple of minutes.

"It'll be okay, honey," he repeated as Peter shuffled over to the car, yawning so widely that Tony was afraid that his jaw had come unhinged.

"Everything okay?" he asked as he crawled into the backseat.

"Yeah, little guy, everything's fine," Steve said after a short pause. "Dad and I just have to make a quick trip to D.C. tomorrow night, we have a meeting to attend on Monday morning."

"Oh. Uh huh," Peter said through another yawn. "Can we still stop and get some food on the way home?"

Tony settled into the driver's seat, starting the car as Happy climbed into the lead car with Clint, Natasha, and Rhodey, with Sam chauffeuring Bucky, Bruce, and Thor in the middle of their caravan.

"Sure, bud, that's fine," he said as he followed Sam off the tarmac and onto the street, heading for the freeway that led home, with Peter falling asleep again not even three minutes later. As soon as Tony engaged the cruise control Steve placed his hand on his knee, looking over at him with frightened yet determined eyes.

"I love you, sweetheart," he said softly. "We're in this together, don't ever forget that."

Tony nodded, swallowing past the lump in his throat and attempting to smile at his husband, even as he knew Steve would be able to see right through it.

"I know, babe. I love you too."

And he did. Tony loved Steve more than he ever thought he was capable of loving another person besides Peter, and all he wanted was to be able to give his beloved the peace that he so desperately sought, that _he_ so desperately sought.

And he was so goddamn _sick_ of it being taken from them.

* * *

_**As always, I can't wait to see what you think! Please don't hesitate to leave me a review! :)**_


	12. Chapter 12

Steve grunted as he drove his right fist into the tough, leather-backed canvas of the punching bag, gritting his teeth against the ache in his fingers as he followed it with two quick left jabs. He was drenched in sweat, his workout clothes sticking to his skin and his too-long hair hanging across his forehead and into his eyes, but he couldn't bring himself to stop. He had rested from most of his exercise routine for the entire week the team had been in Italy, thinking his body could use the break, and now it was time for him to get back into the swing of things.

Planting his feet, Steve swung his right fist and hit the bag again, the satisfying _thud _accompanied by the sound of clinking chains as it swayed causing his adrenaline to spike, and he stepped back a half step, aiming a series of quick right-left-right jabs that finally sent the bag off its chains and smashing against the wall, spilling sand as it went.

That was two.

He paused for a moment to catch his breath, brushing the damp hair out of his eyes and frowning at the blood-tinged wrap stretched across his knuckles. He knew Tony was going to tell him that he'd overdone it again, with that worried look on his face that Steve always dreaded, but at the moment he didn't care. He needed to be both mentally and physically ready to face the Armed Services Committee in the morning, and smashing the hell out of a few punching bags was one of the best ways for him to do that.

Replacing the punching bag, Steve slowly curled his fingers into his palms and started again, not pausing for longer than it took to breathe until he had sent the bag flying, landing directly on top of the others. His record so far was ten, made the afternoon that Tony and Bruce had discovered the campaign funding trail that connected HYDRA to President Cole, and while he currently only had three more bags on hand, he had a feeling that he was fired up enough to get through all of them before Tony came looking for him.

As it turned out, he had only managed to get through one more when the elevator doors slid open to reveal Tony, his face impassive but his eyes broiling with such concern it was as though they were broadcasting it through a megaphone. Tony had never been able to hide his emotional state from Steve. No matter how stoic he was able to keep his expression, his eyes always gave him away. Even looking at Tony's photograph in his SHIELD file before Steve had met him for the first time, he'd been able to read Tony's eyes.

And since Peter's eyes were just like Tony's, Steve had always been able to read them too.

"Are you all right?" Steve asked between his panting breaths as Tony came up next to him, automatically reaching for his right hand.

"You know, one would think that it should be me doing the, 'are you all right?' asking, since you're the one down here trying to bust up your knuckles. Again." There was no malice in Tony's voice though, only a thick edge of concern as he carefully unwound the wrap from Steve's hand and tested his fingers.

"I'm fine, Tony," Steve said, trying not to sound impatient. He hadn't been finished yet, but he had a feeling that Tony was going to insist that he was.

"Yeah, sure you are," Tony said as he next unwrapped his left hand, which was considerably more beat-up than his right. Steve had been taught to write with his right hand, as back in the early twenties the nuns at the elementary school still believed it was the sign of the devil if a child wrote with his left hand, and while the serum had made him almost ambidextrous he still sometimes favoured his left hand when punching, and his knuckles often paid the price for it.

He tried to look away as Tony flexed his hand, flinching and hissing in pain when Tony gently tugged on the middle finger. It had been hurting for probably the last thirty minutes, which probably meant that—

"Think you might've cracked this one, honey," Tony said with a slight frown. "Again."

"It'll be mostly healed by tomorrow," Steve grumbled. "I'll be fine."

Tony's frown grew even deeper. "I know that, Steve. But just 'cause your body _can_ heal a broken knuckle pretty much overnight doesn't mean that you shouldn't try to _not _be constantly breaking the above mentioned knuckles. Don't you think?"

Tears stung Steve's eyes, welling up before he could hide them or blink them away. In a flash, Tony's expression changed from annoyed to comforting and he tugged on Steve's arm, leading him over to the couch against the wall and gathering him into his arms as soon as they were seated.

"Talk to me, honey, please," Tony whispered as he brushed Steve's sweaty hair off his forehead. "Trying to bottle it all up inside never works, you know that."

Steve gave a nod, breathing in deep, ragged breaths as he listened to the comforting sound of Tony's heartbeat soothe his frazzled nerves. It was a bit funny, he'd always thought, that both he and Peter could be on the verge of an anxious breakdown, and Tony's first instinct with them both was always to bury his fingers into their hair and rest their ear against his chest so they could hear his heartbeat. Tony had told Steve a few times over the years that when Peter was a baby it'd been the only way he could get him to sleep, and lately Steve could understand why. The sound was almost magical, and nothing else could chase the demons away faster.

"I'm sorry," he finally said, sniffing and swiping at his nose. "I'm so sorry, I guess I'm just—"

"Babe, how many times do I have to tell you that you don't need to apologise?" Tony said, kissing the top of his head. "And especially not to me. Believe me, I understand."

"I know you do," Steve murmured. "But sometimes I just really wish that you didn't, 'cause this… this—"

"It sucks, doesn't it," said Tony. He pressed a soft kiss to Steve's clammy forehead. "Not being in control."

Steve nodded against his chest. Of course Tony would know exactly what was bothering him. "I think that's the worst part of all this. Back during the war I knew my mission, and I knew how to formulate the plans that I'd need to complete the mission. And things didn't always go according to plan, 'cause it was a war, and stuff tends to happen that you didn't plan on during a war. But I still knew the objective, I knew who the enemy was, and I knew what I needed to do to take them out. But now… I guess ever since the whole mess with Project Insight, I can't say that I know who the enemy is anymore. I mean, SHIELD was completely infiltrated by HYDRA and no one even realised it until it was almost too late, and now we don't know how many of them are left or even who they are, and it just makes me so angry! And now if they've been able to manoeuvre their way into the government, then… what's to stop them from doing exactly what they'd always intended to do?"

Tony was quiet for several heartbeats. "Well, I guess we are. Isn't that part of the Avengers' mission? To take down HYDRA?"

"It was supposed to be _my _mission," Steve grumbled. "_I_ was supposed to take down HYDRA, and I thought that I had. I guess I was just too damn arrogant to think that by taking down the Red Skull that HYDRA would just cease to exist."

"It wasn't arrogance, honey," Tony said. "At the time you had no reason to think that Zola would do what he did, or that anyone besides the goddamn Nazis would be stupid enough to buy into HYDRA's philosophy. Hell, not even Hitler knew exactly what HYDRA was doing."

Steve scoffed. "No, but Hitler was insane, so I'm not surprised. Now, President Cole on the other hand… he seems way too smooth and charming to be insane, but I suppose you never know."

"I think the correct term for Cole would be psychopath, honey. No conscience means that you can do whatever the hell you want and not worry about the consequences."

"Well, great. That's a comfort."

Tony let out a sigh as he cupped Steve's cheek, tilting his head up to look at him. "I don't think that Cole's the real enemy here, though. I think he's just a puppet, which means there's someone else—or a few someone elses—who are still in the background pulling the strings."

"Like the Armed Services Committee?" Steve asked.

"For starters," said Tony. "I mean, whoever controls the military really has the ultimate control in a country, wouldn't you think? Hasn't that always been the case in the past?"

Something about Tony's tone, a slight wobble in his voice, caught Steve's attention and he sat up, eyeing his husband warily.

"What aren't you telling me?"

Tony's eyes flashed with guilt, only for a split-second before he was able to turn his face away, but it was still long enough for Steve to notice.

"Tony?"

Tony huffed, slumping back against the couch and crossing his arms. "This isn't how I meant to tell you."

"Okay, well, I guess that doesn't matter anymore now, does it?" Steve said with a frown. "But since we're both going up against the firing squad tomorrow morning, don't you think I should be as prepared as possible?"

"I was gonna tell you on the flight down to D.C. tonight, Steve," Tony snapped. "So just give me a break, okay? You're not the only one who's a bit stressed out about this whole thing."

Steve's heart lurched, ashamed of his selfishness. Just because Tony had more experience than he did with addressing senatorial committees didn't mean that he didn't dread it. "I'm sorry, sweetheart, I didn't mean to snap at you. Can you tell me now, though? Please?"

Heaving a heavy sigh, Tony tipped his head back against the couch, closing his eyes and kneading his temples. "It was the same night as that whole mess at the theatre, which is the main reason why I didn't say anything at the time. That day was already bad enough without adding something else to the mix."

Well, Tony wasn't wrong. "Okay," Steve said slowly. "Go on."

"Ever since my meeting with Beck, I've had JARVIS running a tracer on that off-site server he'd been using," Tony continued. "And that night he got a hit. He wasn't able to figure out who had accessed the server, only that it was someone in New York City, but he was able to see what they had accessed."

"Okay, and…?" said Steve. He reached for Tony's hand, cradling it gently. "Sweetheart?"

Tony shook his head, a deep frown marring his beautiful face. "Goddamnit, Steve, I was such a fucking idiot! I don't know what I was thinking, I should've never let this happen! I should've started investigating Beck the very first time Pepper mentioned his name, and instead—"

"Beating ourselves up over what ifs never helps anything, right?" Steve cut in. "Isn't that what Sam's always telling us?"

"Well, yeah," Tony said, rolling his eyes. "But that doesn't mean that I actually agree with him when he says it."

_No, I can't say that I always do either,_ Steve thought.

"Okay, so why don't we just pretend for a second that you're not beating yourself up about it, and just tell me what JARVIS found?"

Tony stared at him for a long time, his lower lip quivering. "The data accessed from the server turned out to be the design schematics of my Iron Legion suits," he said. "Which means that whoever it was—"

"Could now potentially build one of their own," Steve finished.

"Or more than one," Tony added. "As long as they have the materials, they could build as many as they wanted."

Steve kept his eyes on Tony's palm as he breathed in and out, slowly and deeply, studying the lines and creases and calluses as he tried to keep a lid on his erupting emotions. His palms were sweating, his heart was thudding madly against his ribcage, and he could feel his panic demon attempting to punch and kick through the mental shields he had set up with Sam's help, trying desperately to break free.

_No,_ he thought, with a lot more intensity than he felt at the moment. _I'm not gonna let you out. Not now._

"They made you put the schematics on a public server, didn't they?" he asked, low and tight. "The Armed Services Committee? That's how they were able to get them?"

"Not exactly public, but yeah, it was a Damage Control server," answered Tony. "They wouldn't allow the Iron Legion to be used in guarding the cleanup convoys until they could have their so-called experts look over the design first. And I've made a lot of upgrades since then that they don't know about, but the basic design is still pretty much the same, so—"

"Okay, so give me the worst-case here," he said gently.

Tony bit his bottom lip. "Worst-case is whoever this is builds up an entire army of the suits and then uses them as an alternative to Project Insight."

"To take out HYDRA's presumed enemies," Steve said.

"Or not-so-presumed," said Tony. "They'd start with their definite enemies first, and guess who'd be at the top of that list?"

Steve's belly gave a hard swoop. "We would be. The Avengers."

"Exactly."

"All right," Steve said after a short pause. "Is there any way JARVIS can find out who accessed this information?"

"He's been working on it ever since then, Steve," Tony said, obviously frustrated. "But whoever it is hid their goddamn tracks so well that there's nothing we can use to sniff 'em out!"

"Okay, okay," Steve said as he squeezed Tony's hand. "But we can assume that it's someone with ties to the government, since it was a Damage Control server that had the information, can't we?"

"Someone either associated with Damage Control or someone associated with a member of Damage Control's oversight, yeah," Tony answered. "But hell, Steve, that could be any number of people! D.C. is filled to the brim with wanna-be government leeches and lackeys!"

"That's true, but this would most likely be someone who would know what to do with the schematics," said Steve. "Someone with at least the know-how to build one of the suits."

"Yeah… probably."

"Okay. Could that someone be Adrian Toomes, for example?"

Tony shook his head, scrubbing a palm down his face. "No, Toomes was a salvage contractor, not an engineer. And he's been in holding too long to have been involved with this."

"Okay, then what about Beck himself?" Steve asked. "He's an engineer, correct?"

"Yeah, but the timing doesn't work out. He was still standing in Pepper's office bitching at the HR guy when the server was accessed."

"Okay, but Beck could still be linked to whoever it is that got the data, right?" Steve said. "Could he build one of the suits if he had the blueprints and the components for it?"

"Yeah, probably," Tony said, his shoulders sagging in defeat. "The materials I use are patented and specific only to Stark Industries, but there are alternatives out there that are available, and the guy is pretty damn smart, I'll give him that."

"All right, then we just have to figure out who'd be able to supply these alternative materials," said Steve. "JARVIS?"

"At your service, Captain."

"Can you please start compiling a list of any possible suppliers or producers of materials that could be used to construct an armoured suit similar to the Iron Legion?"

"I will begin immediately, Captain," JARVIS said.

"Thank you." Steve's jaw twitched as he tugged on Tony's hand, drawing him into a tight hug. "Please don't hide stuff like that from me again, sweetheart," he murmured. "It's always better to handle this stuff together, isn't it?"

"I wasn't hiding it, Steve," Tony mumbled into his chest. "You were in no condition to hear it when I found out, and then… well… we needed that trip, honey. We needed that trip to be as relaxing as possible, and I didn't want it hanging over our heads the whole time."

"So instead it was just hanging over your head? That doesn't seem fair to me."

"Mmm. Semantics."

"Not really, Tony." Steve pulled back, his hands cupping Tony's shoulders. "We have got to stick together on this stuff, okay? And that means we can't be hiding stuff from each other, especially stuff that could affect not only us, but the entire team. Okay? Please?"

Tony's lips twitched as he nodded. "Yeah, okay. Fine."

Steve shot him a deep frown. "That doesn't sound very convincing."

"It's about as convincing as I can muster at the moment, babe," Tony grumbled. "'Cause right now I'm just too damn tired to do any better."

Fear welled up inside Steve, overpowering his panic demon to take its place at the head of the pack. Tony was already working himself to the bone, not only with helping Bruce with the decryption of the Mongolian files, but also upgrading the defence drones that surrounded their homes, checking in with Pepper and his company from time to time, and keeping up with the team's equipment and uniforms at the same time as he was trying to get Beck's glasses technology altered so they could test it out on Bucky.

It would be enough to kill any lesser man.

Or give him a heart attack, which is mainly what Steve worried about. Dr Cho conducted cardiac examinations and tests on Tony's heart function on a regular basis, and everything pointed to it being as healthy as it could be, but Steve still worried about him. He still didn't eat very often unless Steve or Peter encouraged him, he still didn't get enough sleep, and he still drank enough coffee to supply an army, none of which was good for keeping his heart healthy.

And unfortunately, aside from making sure Tony got enough to eat, switching him to decaf in the evenings over his protests, and encouraging him to sleep more, Steve didn't really know what else he could do to help him.

So instead he just pulled Tony close again, tucking his head under his chin and burying his nose into his husband's hair. He closed his eyes and breathed in, inhaling Tony's scent, allowing it to chase away the demons of fear and panic and remind him that they were in this whole thing together. That no matter what happened, they would always have each other's backs.

"I'm so sorry, sweetheart," Steve murmured. "I wish I could do more to help you."

"This is helping," Tony said, muffled against Steve's chest. "Even if you smell like you've been punching the hell outta canvas bags for the last three hours." He lifted his head, looking up at Steve with his lips twitching playfully. "And now you've gotten me all sweaty too."

Steve snorted as he grinned. "Well, then I guess you'll just have to take a shower with me. Is Peter still down with Thor and Bucky?"

"Last I checked they were settling in for a hockey double-header," Tony replied. "Pretty sure Sam said something about joining them, so…"

"So then we have some time," Steve said. He pressed his lips to Tony's in a firm kiss, nipping gently at his lips as Tony let out a soft whimper. "C'mon, sweetheart. Come and take a shower with me, and…" He left the rest of his statement unsaid as he hoisted Tony into his arms, ignoring the throbbing pain in his knuckles as they headed for the elevator, but he knew Tony knew what he meant anyway.

_Let's help each other forget, if only for a little while._

* * *

Tony grimaced as the ornate wooden doors opened into the Senate Armed Forces Committee's chambers, the nearly overwhelming smell of the place hitting him like a brick wall, a bad combination of old Cuban cigar smoke and verbal bullshit. He had always hated this particular room, the very same room where that old fucker Senator Stern had tried to drag him through the mud over three years ago, trying to force him into turning over his Iron Man armour to the government, or more specifically, to HYDRA. Nick Fury had accompanied Tony to those hearings, eventually proposing a deal with the Joint Chiefs that allowed Rhodey access to one armoured suit—aptly named War Machine—under the condition that he and only he would have access to it.

And the Joint Chiefs had agreed, much to the chagrin of Senator Stern and his HYDRA lackeys.

And while that agreement hadn't made Rhodey an official member of the Avengers, given the facts that he still divided most of his time between D.C. and Edwards Air Force Base out in California and used his armour to complete specific missions for the Air Force, the entire team still considered him to be a sort of honorary member, someone both Tony and Steve knew they could count on if they needed him.

Clearing his throat, Tony schooled his face into his usual I-don't-give-a-damn-what-you-think-of-me expression that he always wore when dealing with members of the government or press as he stepped inside the room, blinking against the explosions of camera flashes as he made his way up to the tables set up near the front, with Steve right on his heels. At Rhodey's suggestion, Steve was dressed in his full Army dress uniform, and he cut such an incredibly handsome figure that it had taken nearly all of Tony's self-control earlier that morning to not grab him by his perfectly pressed lapels and drag him back inside their apartment.

As it was, they had spent most of the night doing anything but sleeping, both trying to take the other's mind off of what was coming. Tony knew it was probably hypocritical of both he and Steve to use sex to distract themselves, but at the time neither of them cared. Any sleep they'd managed to get had been fleeting and plagued by nightmares, so after a while they just decided to hell with it and took turns pleasuring each other until they dozed off, only to wake and start all over again.

He could tell Steve was nervous by his ramrod-straight back and tight set of his jaw, but no one who didn't know him well would've been able to tell. To the outside world he just looked like Captain Steve Rogers, war hero and leader of the Avengers, and Tony's sexy-as-hell husband.

They had checked in with Peter earlier that morning while he was eating breakfast with Sam, making sure that he remembered to pack his gym clothes and an extra hoodie, as well as all the snacks he needed to keep his blood sugar even so he didn't pass out during Decathlon practise. Tony had suspected that he had hit yet another growth spurt while they were in Italy since he'd been eating nearly everything in sight, which likely meant that Steve would have to take him clothes shopping again soon.

Taking his seat, Tony scanned the various senators facing him from the oval-shaped table. Senator Davis sat to the right of the committee chairman, some old guy from Oklahoma who in Tony's experience seemed to be chairman in name only, always deferring to his colleagues whenever anything of actual importance was discussed. He picked up the pitcher of water in front of him, pouring both he and Steve a generous glass as Rhodey and several other high-ranking military officers took their seats in the rows behind them.

"Welcome Captain Rogers, Mr Stark," the chairman said, clapping his hands to ask for silence. "We appreciate your presence in this chamber today."

The smirk plastered across Senator Davis's face made Tony's blood pressure spike, and he took a quick sip of his water, reminding himself that he should probably try and project the image of politeness, at least in the beginning.

"If that is indeed the case, Mr Chairman, perhaps it would've been better to have simply asked for our presence rather than serving us with subpoenas the moment we disembarked from a family vacation?"

He got a glimmer of satisfaction when the chairman's face paled and he let out an embarrassed cough. "Yes, well, my sincere apologies, Mr Stark. I'll definitely take that under advisement in the future."

"Both Captain Rogers and I would appreciate it, Mr Chairman," said Tony, smiling when he felt Steve squeeze his knee under the table.

"Yes, yes, I'm sure this is all quite important," Senator Davis cut in. "But as I'm sure you're aware, Mr Stark, our time is both quite limited and quite valuable, so why don't we just get on with it, shall we?"

"By all means, Senator," said Tony. "Proceed."

After swearing to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth so help them God, Tony and Steve retook their seats, waiting expectantly as Senator Davis cleared his throat, giving Tony that politician's smile of his that always made his skin crawl.

"I'd actually like to begin with some questions specifically for Captain Rogers," Davis said.

"Sir," Steve replied, sitting so perfectly straight in his chair that Tony was certain he could've balanced a level across his shoulders.

"Can you please state your complete name and birthdate for the record, Captain?"

"Yes, sir," Steve replied. "My name is Steven Grant Rogers, and my date of birth is July the fourth, nineteen hundred and eighteen."

Senator Davis raised his eyebrows as a chorus of murmurs broke out amongst the committee members sitting around him. It never failed to amuse Tony just how many people seemed to have forgotten that Steve was actually lost for sixty-five years.

"Please pardon the reaction from my colleagues, Captain," said Davis. "I'm sure you can understand the unusualness of your situation."

"I highly doubt that anyone could understand it better than myself, sir," Steve said, forcing Tony to fake a cough to hide his snort.

_Oh, how I adore that man._

Davis's slimy smile wavered just a bit. "Yes, well I'm sure that's true. I do have some questions for you, Captain, regarding how you came to be enlisted in the Army back in 1941." He pretended to shuffle some of the papers in front of him, folding his hands over the stack.

"From my understanding, Captain," Davis began. "You were initially rejected in your attempts to enlist in the Army. In fact, you were rejected four separate times before finally being accepted into the Strategic Science Reserve. Is that correct, sir?"

A sharp flash of anger shot through Tony as he watched Steve gulp out of the corner of his eye, his rigid posture not wavering even a millimetre. _Where the hell is this asshole going with this?_

"Yes, sir," said Steve. "That is correct."

"I see. Can you please explain to my colleagues how exactly the fifth time was the charm?"

"It was at that point that I was introduced to Dr Erskine, Senator," replied Steve.

"And Dr Erskine was able to overrule all four of the previous rejections?" asked Davis. "Just like that?"

Steve gave his head a quick shake. "I wasn't informed of the exact process by which Dr Erskine arrived at his decision, sir, only that he did."

Davis's large nose gave a twitch. "Yes, well, it did seem as though things finally went your way at that point, isn't that right, Captain?"

"I suppose that's one way to look at it," answered Steve. "I was just glad to finally get the chance to serve my country."

"And serve your country you did, Captain," piped up one of the senators from the back row, a middle-aged man from Montana or Wyoming, Tony couldn't quite recall. "I still have all of my father's Captain America comic books that he left me when he passed. All in mint condition, I might add!"

Steve smiled proudly as several of the other committee members nodded in agreement, tilting their heads together to share their own stories of the legends of Captain America. Tony watched as Senator Davis's expression morphed into something that could only be described as murderous, only for a second or two before he was able to regain his composure.

_As if we needed anymore confirmation that Davis is in bed with HYDRA_, Tony thought. _Dude's practically broadcasting it with a satellite._

"Yes, yes, I'm sure we all could spend the next several hours trading stories, but that's not exactly why we are here," said Davis. He tapped the tip of his pen against his stack of papers. "Now then, Captain Rogers. You were found and… defrosted, for lack of a better term, approximately four years ago, is that correct?"

"Yes, sir," Steve said. "That's correct."

"All right. And then you were immediately sent overseas to recover Mr Stark and his son?"

"It was shortly thereafter, sir, about two weeks later."

"I see. And it was SHIELD Director Fury who arranged for your involvement?"

"Yes, sir. It was myself and Colonel Rhodes who were sent on the mission."

"And can you explain exactly how Mr Fury had the authority to send you on such a mission?"

Steve's jaw twitched and his brow furrowed, relaxing slightly when Tony patted his knee. "Director Fury explained that the Strategic Science Reserve had become the organisation known as SHIELD, and since I was a member of the SSR when I went down, that meant that I was an employee of SHIELD after I was found."

"And you weren't given a choice in the matter?"

"To be honest, sir, at the time I wasn't really prepared to deal with choices. It was quite a shock, being suddenly thrust into the twenty-first century, and I honestly wasn't in the right frame of mind to make any life-altering decisions at the time."

"Yes, I'm sure that must've been difficult," Davis said, so incredibly patronising and with such false sincerity that Tony hands clenched into fists.

"I would like the record to show that Captain Rogers and Colonel Rhodes were successful in their mission to rescue myself and my son," Tony spoke up. "And that they not only rescued us from an active war zone, but that Captain Rogers also saved my son's life without question or hesitation, even before I knew who he was."

"Yes, yes, I was just getting to that, Mr Stark," Davis retorted, shooting Tony a scowl that if looks could have killed, would've splattered him all over their table. "So, if you don't mind, Captain, can you please give us just a brief synopsis as to what happened after you and Colonel Rhodes recovered the Starks in Afghanistan?"

"Well, young Peter was near death when I found them, and Tony was gravely injured, so they were first airlifted to the base hospital for rest and recovery, and once it was determined that Peter was well enough to be moved, we returned to the United States."

"And specifically, to California," said Davis. "Isn't that correct?"

"Yes, sir," Steve said, confused. "But I don't understand how this is relevant to—"

"It's not up to you to understand, Captain, just to answer the questions," Davis snapped. "Now then, in the interests of time I'll forgo some of my more involved questions, but suffice it to say that you were then placed in the Stark home to act as a sort of bodyguard, is that correct?"

"Yes, sir, that's correct."

"And over the course of the next several months, you then proceeded to begin a relationship with Mr Stark, is that also correct?"

"What the _hell?"_ Tony muttered under his breath, thankfully far enough away from his microphone that it wasn't picked up. Steve's cheeks were a bright pink, his full lips pursed tightly in anger.

"Again, sir, I'm not sure how that's relevant to our current discussion," Steve said evenly.

Davis smiled triumphantly, leaning back in his chair. "Well, Captain, in this case I believe it to be very relevant. You see, there is no other United States-based peacekeeping or law enforcement organisation that I am aware of that would allow a… couple such as yourselves to participate in such organisation together, especially if one of the members of said couple is in fact the other's superior. So I am wondering, Captain, how you are able to reconcile this?"

The chambers grew so quiet that Tony could've heard a pin drop, but Tony was so upset that he barely registered it. How _dare_ that son of a bitch try and play that card, that disgusting, barely-veiled homophobic card meant only to question Steve's authority and embarrass them both.

Scrabbling for Tony's hand under the table, Steve gave it a quick squeeze before clearing his throat.

"Well, _Senator,_ the Avengers aren't exactly like other peacekeeping or law-enforcement organisations, are we," Steve said in his Captain's voice. "And since we are also a private organisation, then the onus falls to us to make the rules by which to best operate our team. And dare I say, _sir,_ that those rules have always suited us just fine."

Tony almost cheered when Davis's shoulders sagged at Steve's statement, made even better when Chairman Oklahoma—Tony really ought to have learned his name by now—shot Davis a glowering look.

"Captain Rogers, I must apologise for the rather invasive questions presented by my colleague," the chairman said. "There was no need to bring your personal life into this session."

"I agree, sir," Steve said quietly. "And thank you."

"If I may, Mr Chairman, Captain," said Davis, leaning forward against the table. "I do have one more question that I believe to be of relevance."

"Very well," replied the chairman.

Davis cleared his throat. "You stated that the rules for the Avengers as a team are created by the team itself, is that correct, Captain?"

"Yes, that's correct," said Steve.

"All right, and does that also include the rules for expanding your team?"

"Sir?" Steve asked, frowning. "I'm not sure what you mean?"

"Do you have any plans to expand the Avengers, Captain? Add new members? Perhaps this Spider-Man fellow that keeps popping up from time to time? And wasn't he at one point rumoured to be none other than Peter Stark, the very boy you saved out in the desert?"

At the mention of Peter, Tony sat bolt upright in his chair, nearly knocking over his water glass in his attempt to bring it to his lips, trying to hide the sneer he desperately wanted to toss right at Davis's face. He was so angry that he could feel the blood rushing past his ears, feel the sweat dripping down his back beneath his undershirt.

_That goddamn sick son of a bitch! How dare he!_

There was no longer any doubt in his mind that Davis not only was HYDRA, but that he also knew about Peter.

And judging by the way Steve's jaw was sharp enough to cut through vibranium, he had realised the exact same thing.

"My son's name is Peter Stark-Rogers, sir," Steve said firmly. "And that video meant to implicate my son was sent to various press outlets as a deliberate attempt by an enemy of our family to not only discredit us, but to also put us in danger. And since then it has been completely and thoroughly debunked, as I'm sure you're aware."

"Yes, I'm well aware of how that came about, Captain," said Davis, not missing a beat. "And as to the question of adding more members—"

"The Avengers have no plans at the moment to add any new members to our team," Steve cut in. "And if that time ever comes, we would decide on it as a team, for the team."

"I see, Captain," Davis said with such a smug look that Tony felt a wave of nausea pass through him. "And if I may, what exactly is your opinion on the Spider-Man?"

Steve took a quick sip of his water, his shoulders still perfectly straight. "My personal opinion, sir, is that I applaud anyone who is willing to stand up to bullies, which is what I perceive to be Spider-Man's mission. However, given the assumption that Spider-Man is quite young, I would recommend that he suspend any further superhero-like activities until he is much older, as I'm sure his parents would agree."

Various heads bobbed around the room in agreement, with Chairman Oklahoma giving Davis another deep scowl.

"Does that conclude your questions for Captain Rogers, Senator?" he asked.

"Yes, Mr Chairman, I have no further questions for the Captain." Davis licked his lips, rearranging the pile of papers in front of him and shifting in his chair, and in general forcing Tony to bite his lip to avoid laughing out loud. Steve's nearly impeccable poise through Davis's disgusting questions had rattled the man, and Tony was so proud of his husband that he was nearly bursting with it.

"Now then, Mr Stark," Davis began. "If you don't mind, I'd like to begin with a few questions regarding the various weapons contracts that your company Stark Industries used to hold with the U.S. Military."

_Hmm… interesting._

"Yes, Senator?" Tony said, with as much false sincerity as he could conjure.

"Exactly how many unfulfilled contracts did you leave behind in the wake of your rather abrupt decision to halt your company's weapons manufacturing?" asked Davis.

"Exactly zero, Senator," answered Tony. "Just because I halted production didn't mean that I reneged on any of my company's contracts. Stark Industries has never broken a contract made in good faith, and it never will. And if you don't believe me, I'm sure there's a few Colonels or Generals sitting behind me who would be happy to vouch for me."

His answer had obviously surprised Davis, who glared off to the side in the direction of an aide who was visibly shrinking in his chair. Apparently someone hadn't done their research properly.

"Since you are indeed answering these questions under penalty of perjury, I don't believe that will be necessary, Mr Stark," said Davis. He tossed his top paper off to the side, letting it flutter to the floor. "Moving on, then, I was wondering if you might tell us how you came to be involved in the agency known as the Department of Damage Control?"

"Well, that's pretty easy," said Tony. "I was asked."

Davis gave a short nod. "And asked by whom?"

"By your predecessors and Nick Fury, Senator."

"Nick Fury," Davis repeated. "And may I ask how it was that Mr Fury had enough influence with my predecessors to demand your involvement in this agency?"

Tony leaned forward, tossing an almost imperceptible wink in Steve's direction. "It was actually the other way around, Senator," he said. "Mr Fury was kind enough to negotiate on my behalf with the Armed Services Committee when the request was made for me to head up the agency. The committee wanted a civilian, and obviously someone with the means to get the job done as quickly and as thoroughly as possible."

"And that someone was you, Mr Stark?"

"Well, I'm sitting here, aren't I? And the job is finished, so it seems as though I was a pretty decent choice."

"Yes, Mr Stark, you are sitting here," Davis said, his paper thin lips stretching into one of the fakest smiles Tony had ever seen. "And did those means that you mentioned include what I believe you referred to as the Iron Legion?"

_Ah huh, _Tony thought. _There it is._

"Yes," Tony said simply.

Davis started, his brow furrowing. "Can you elaborate, Mr Stark?"

"On which part, Senator?"

"The Iron Legion, Mr Stark. Forgive me, but it just seems odd that someone who had shut down the weapons manufacturing aspect of his company would be able to produce what amounted to at least two dozen of these flying armoured suits."

"And as I explained to your predecessors, I felt that the Iron Legion was necessary to defend the convoys transporting artefacts from the cleanup sites from possible outside attack. However, I would not personally classify them as weapons."

"Oh?" said Davis. "And how exactly would you classify them?"

"As a purely defensive measure," Tony said firmly. "And one that was very effective, I might add."

"And yet, these suits now remain in the possession of Stark Industries, rather than the Department of Damage Control," said Davis.

"That's right," stated Tony. "I built them with patented materials manufactured by myself and my company, and paid for them out of my own pocket. I believe that's enough of a reason to classify them as mine."

"Perhaps to you, Mr Stark," snapped Davis. "But I'm afraid to some of us, it would appear that the Avengers now have control over a rather large and formidable iron army, which is something that I for one am not exactly comfortable with. So what do you believe gives you the right to keep such a private army, and how are we to be sure that the Avengers won't one day use it to turn on the rest of us?"

Tony paused, glancing at Steve as he drew in a deep breath. They had anticipated getting a question like this.

"I'd actually like to defer to Captain Rogers on this one, Mr Chairman, with your permission of course," said Tony.

Chairman Oklahoma gave a rather bored nod. "As you wish, Mr Stark."

Steve cleared his throat, folding his hands on the table in front of him. "As it stands right now, Senator, I highly doubt that I'll be able to give you an answer that will satisfy you, but what I can promise is that it will be the absolute truth."

"Very well, Captain, continue," said Davis.

"I believe that there is no 'rest of us'," he began. "Regardless of my enhancements, I'm just as human as anyone else, as are the other enhanced individuals on our team. I also believe that the track record of the Avengers is sufficient enough to stand on its own. I believe that our team has proven itself time and time again that we have nothing but the best interests of not only the United States, but of all humanity at heart, and I also believe that the vast majority of the general public would agree with me. We have fought battles against threats that without our involvement would have resulted in potentially catastrophic casualties, and we have done so without hesitation and without expectation of either reward or compensation. We are, sir, Earth's mightiest defence force, and if for some reason a threat were to emerge where I would feel it necessary to utilise the Iron Legion, then I would make that call, again without hesitation."

Davis was quiet for a moment, no doubt trying to come up with something that would sound even a fraction as inspiring as Steve's speech.

_Like he ever could._

"And in the meantime, Captain, Mr Stark," he finally said. "We're just supposed to trust that you and your… team will do the right thing?"

"I'm pretty sure that's what the Captain just said, Senator," said Tony. "Would you like him to repeat his statement?"

"No, that won't be necessary, Mr Stark," Davis said hotly. "I do, however, have a few final questions that I wish to ask."

"Well, don't let me stop you."

Once again Davis shuffled his papers, shooting a furtive glance at the poor aide sitting in the corner who would likely be job-hunting as soon as the hearing was over.

"The incident involving the Avengers that took place here in D.C., at the Triskelion," Davis began. "What can you tell us about that?"

"That's a pretty broad question, Senator," Tony replied. "Could you be a bit more specific?"

"I am wondering how what appeared to be an internal conflict within SHIELD managed to escalate enough to require the presence of the Avengers?"

_You have got to be fucking kidding me._

"Um, because it wasn't just an internal conflict," Tony said slowly, almost as though he was talking to Peter when he was a toddler. "Those helicarriers were programmed to target millions of innocent civilians, as I'm sure your committee members read in the thousands upon thousands of pages of data that Agent Romanoff made available to the public."

"Yes, well, I'm sure someone of your intelligence would agree that it is unwise to believe everything you read on the internet, wouldn't you, Mr Stark?" said Davis.

"Not in this case," Tony said through clenched teeth.

"Well, I suppose we'll just have to agree to disagree on that," Davis said, so smugly that Tony had to physically restrain himself from jumping over the table and punching the man. "However, I am also wondering what you can tell us about the assassin known as the Winter Soldier?"

Steve made a small noise in the back of his throat, thankfully only loud enough for Tony to hear. Both he and Rhodey had mentioned the possibility of the committee bringing up Bucky, and Tony had pretty much dismissed it, thinking that since the Winter Soldier had been presumed dead ever since the Project Insight mess that they wouldn't bother with it.

Apparently he'd been wrong.

"Only what I've heard through SHIELD and from Agent Romanoff, who had some prior experience in dealing with him," Tony said, as casually as possible. "I know that he was considered a prime suspect in the destruction of our Malibu home and also attempted to kill Director Fury a couple of times, but other than that I have no further information."

Davis gave a rather doubtful nod. "I see. So you have no information as to the current whereabouts of the Winter Soldier?"

"Nope," said Tony. "Far as I know he's gone." '_Cause he technically is._

"All right," said Davis, narrowing his already beady eyes. "Just one more question, then, Mr Stark, if I may."

_Yeah, right._

"Yes, Senator?"

"Are you familiar with the name, James Buchanan Barnes?"

_Oh, shit._

Another noise squeaked its way from Steve's throat, his lips pursing just enough for Tony to notice. Davis was actually going for the jugular, right there in front of God and everyone.

"Of course I am, Senator, since he was my husband's closest childhood friend," Tony said. "Unfortunately, Barnes was presumed killed in action during World War II while attempting to capture a high-ranking HYDRA official, so I'm not exactly sure why bringing up his name is necessary here, unless of course it is your intention to cause my husband unnecessary pain by reminding him that he was forced to watch his best friend fall to his death."

Chairman Oklahoma immediately sat upright in his chair, glaring bullets at Davis as Steve's hand briefly closed around Tony's. "Please accept our apologies for that rather invasive question, Mr Stark, Captain Rogers."

"Thank you, Mr Chairman," Steve said softly. "It is still quite a painful memory, and one I don't particularly enjoy having to relive."

"I can only imagine, Captain," said the chairman. "And I thank both you and Mr Stark for your cooperation, that concludes this hearing."

Tony let out a puff of air as he and Steve got to their feet, nodding towards the chairman before heading back towards the doors with Rhodey close behind them. As soon as they were in the hallway Tony sucked in a deep breath, glaring in the general direction of the various senators and aides who were now exiting the chambers.

"Well, I think that went about as well as it could have," said Rhodey. "I swear that Davis is a special kind of asshole, though."

"More like the worst kind," grumbled Tony. "You heading back already?"

"In the morning, gotta put in some mingling time first," said Rhodey, jerking his head towards the gaggle of military officials conglomerating over in one of the corners. "I'll let you know if I pick up any gossip."

"Sounds good."

"Thank you, James," Steve said as he shook Rhodey's hand. "We both really appreciate your support."

"Eh, I don't mind as long as I keep getting new suits out of the deal," Rhodey said with a wink. "Give Peter a hug for me, yeah?"

"Will do."

As soon as Rhodey stepped away Steve offered Tony his arm, leading him towards the exit doors. They were only a few steps away when Tony heard a laugh, a high-pitched, screeching laugh that was so vaguely familiar that he whipped around, tugging Steve with him as his eyes focused in on the far corner of the hallway, where a man dressed in an expensive, custom-made suit was speaking to Senator Davis and another man who appeared to be an Army general.

"Holy _shit_," Tony murmured as his belly gave a violent swoop. It had honestly never occurred to him before that moment, but now that he was seeing it, it all made perfect sense.

_How arrogant could I possibly be?_

Tony knew that when he pulled Stark Industries out of the weapons business it had created a pretty big void in the market, one that any number of companies would likely jump at the chance to fill. He just never thought the military would be stupid enough to…

Then again, aside from Rhodey, Steve, and Sam, Tony had never been all that impressed with the overall leadership in the U.S. Military, seeing it as mainly a "good ole boys" club, and almost as politically-driven as the rest of D.C.

The man laughed again, an almost cartoon-like cackle that raised all of the hair on Tony's neck, causing a shiver to race down his spine and Steve to look down at him in alarm.

"Are you all right, sweetheart?" he asked. "What is it?"

"Not here, babe," Tony whispered. "Let's get back to the apartment first, yeah?"

Steve gave a nod, closing his hand over Tony's as they manoeuvred their way towards the exit. Tony's mind was swirling as they hurried back to the Stark Industries building, berating himself over and over for not seeing it sooner.

_Justin Hammer. You goddamn slimy son of a bitch._

Justin Hammer had been chasing after Tony's coattails for as long as he could remember, a proverbial thorn in Tony's side from the time he took over as CEO of Stark Industries until the day he shut down his weapons manufacturing. Not only did the man remind Tony way too much of his father, always quoting Howard whenever he found himself in front of a camera, but also had never, ever failed to hide either his jealousy or his disdain for Tony, even going so far as to try and date a few of the women Tony used to run with in the social circles.

He also hadn't ever had a single original idea in his life. Pretty much everything Hammer Industries had ever produced was a knock-off of one of Tony's designs, such that Tony had even been forced to take him to court a few times over the years for apparent patent infringement.

Which, Tony supposed, made him a perfect target for HYDRA.

And now all of the pieces were slowly starting to slide together.

_I should've seen it coming._

_Why didn't I see it coming?_

"JARVIS, do a sweep for bugs, will ya?" Tony asked as soon as he and Steve stepped inside their vast penthouse. He slid off his coat and suit jacket, draping them over a chair as he loosened his tie with fumbling fingers. Steve quickly did the same, hanging both his and Tony's jackets up so they didn't wrinkle.

"The penthouse is clear of all known designs of listening devices, sir," said JARVIS a few seconds later.

"Yeah, okay. Go ahead and play some music anyway, yeah? Something from the big band era?"

The jazzy tones of the Glenn Miller Band swept through the penthouse only a second later, with Steve's lips twitching in mild amusement as he recognised it.

"Sweetheart?" he asked, taking Tony gently by the elbows. "What is it? The questions about Bucky?"

"Not exactly, although I thought those were particularly low blows, even from that slimeball Davis," Tony said, nearly spitting out the words. "There was no point to those questions other than to try and get a reaction out of you."

Steve gulped, his cheeks going pink. "I didn't give them one, did I?"

"No, no, honey, you were perfect," Tony assured him. "No one except for me could tell that you were rattled."

"Okay, then…?"

Tony tilted his head as he looked up into his husband's gorgeous sea-blue eyes. "Three years ago I might've thought it was just a coincidence, but now—"

"We can't afford to think like that," Steve finished. "Who did you see at the hearing?"

With a self-deprecating roll of his eyes—_how could I have been so goddamn blind?_—Tony dug the pads of his fingers into Steve's biceps, feeling the lines of hard muscle hidden beneath his Army dress shirt. Steve was so incredibly strong, but Tony worried that even he was going to eventually falter under the enormous pressure of trying to battle all the demons that life kept throwing at them. Pretty much ever since he'd been found in the ice it had been one thing after another, with very few breaks in between.

Unfortunately, Tony didn't think, no, he _knew _that he couldn't fight the demons all on his own. There was no way.

They would crush him.

He needed Steve, just like he knew Steve needed him.

"His name's Justin Hammer, and he owns a company that he likes to think is comparable to Stark Industries," he said quietly. "They manufacture tech products, gadgets and stuff, but most of his main buyers are overseas 'cause he's never been able to compete with me head-to-head. And, 'cause I had JARVIS double-check this on the way here, he also has recently landed some pretty lucrative contracts with the military to produce weapons."

Steve's jaw twitched as he nodded. "Your old contracts?"

"Probably. Like I said at the hearing, I specifically made sure to fulfill all of my existing military contracts, but once that was done—"

"They went looking for a new supplier," said Steve.

"Yeah."

"All right. Can this Justin Hammer deliver on those contracts?"

"On his own merit? Hell no," Tony said bitterly. "But, you add in a brilliant engineer like Quentin Beck, who's apparently been siphoning off my designs for almost the entire time he was employed at Stark Industries, along with some stolen Chitauri or Project Insight tech, and voila. You could make some pretty powerful weapons. He could have the military salivating with a single demonstration."

Steve's cheeks paled as he gulped. "So you think Hammer is the person behind the stolen artefacts?"

"It makes sense," answered Tony. "The conversation that Pete overheard at that party, the attacks on the convoys, and Toomes' refusal to talk, it all makes sense. And part of Hammer's company is based in New York City, which just happens to be where Beck's renegade server was accessed from."

"Yes, it does make sense," said Steve with a heavy sigh. "Which likely means it's Hammer who now has the schematics for the Iron Legion."

"Yeah."

"So I suppose the only remaining question, is Hammer working for HYDRA or is HYDRA working for him?" asked Steve.

"Justin Hammer couldn't manage his way out of a paper bag, so it's got to be HYDRA that's pulling the strings," Tony retorted. "Especially with these semi-enhanced things that keep showing up, I don't think Hammer Industries would have the capability for that kind of thing."

"And especially since they seem to be the product of that HYDRA scientist we still haven't identified," agreed Steve. He tipped his head forward, pressing his lips against Tony's forehead as his right arm wound around Tony's waist, drawing him flush against him. "At least now we know, sweetheart."

A knot rose in Tony's throat, and he tried to pull away, held fast by Steve's strong arm. "I should've figured this out a long time ago, Steve, but I was just too damn arrogant. I never thought—"

"Shh," Steve whispered, brushing his lips across Tony's nose and then his lips as he started to gently sway, tucking Tony's right hand against his chest. "Just… dance with me for awhile, let's not think about it now. JARVIS, can you turn up the volume of the music, please?"

"Steve—"

"Of course, Captain," answered JARVIS.

It was on the tip of Tony's tongue to protest, to tell Steve that they really needed to start working on this right now, making plans and then making contingency plans for when those plans fell through, not wasting time dancing to big band in their living room. But then Steve started nuzzling Tony's temple, his hand tightening around his as they swayed to the old-fashioned music, and Tony realised that actually, this was exactly what he needed at the moment.

Steve always seemed to know what he needed.

"It's gonna be okay, mo grá," Steve murmured into Tony's ear. "We'll figure it out together."

Tony nodded as he burrowed even closer, listening to the sound of Steve's strong heart beating in time with the music.

They would figure it out together, because they always had each other's backs.

_Whatever it takes._

* * *

"So, when do you think you'll get to go out with Gwen again?" Ned asked from Peter's tablet, resting on his bed while he worked on his homework. He had just gotten off the phone with Dad and Papa, who'd said they were exhausted and were planning on staying in D.C. for one more night before coming home the next day. Peter had wanted to ask how the hearing went, but one good look at Dad's face convinced him that that wasn't such a great idea, and he had just asked them to say hi to Uncle James for him before saying goodnight.

"I dunno. Hopefully soon, though," Peter answered. "Since the last time was pretty normal I'm hoping for sooner rather than later."

"Yeah, sure, if you call sitting in a luxury box the size of your apartment and eating a five course meal, 'normal'," said Ned, rolling his eyes. "But anyway, I am glad that you weren't attacked by a monster again, that must've been so scary."

"Yeah, not exactly what I'd call a great date," Peter muttered.

"At least the Avengers were close and got there fast," added Ned. "Before too many people could get hurt."

"Yeah. So, how's Betty?"

A flush crept up Ned's tanned cheeks as he let out a slight cough. "Oh, she—she's good. We—you know, we're—we're hanging out… some, and—"

"Like this afternoon, after practise?" Peter asked with a rather sly grin. "I doubt she was just hanging around at the school just 'cause she felt like it."

"Yeah… well… we went to get Chinese food after practise," Ned said, clearing his throat. "So anyway, have you started on that new project for Government yet?"

"Nah, not yet, I'll probably start it this weekend," answered Peter. "It's not due for a week anyway."

Ned narrowed his eyes. "Yeah, but since when have you been such a slacker? Normally you'd have a project like that done in a day or two."

"Yeah, well… maybe I'm just trying to not be so type-A all the time," Peter retorted. He didn't want to admit just how much time he was wasting daydreaming about Gwen. "Like I said, I'll start on it this weekend."

"Okay, well, let me know when you do, okay? Maybe we can trade notes or something."

"Uh huh," Peter said warily, just as he heard Ned's mom's voice calling for him in the background.

"Oops, I gotta go," said Ned. "See ya tomorrow?"

"Yep. Uncle Sam and Auntie Nat are driving me tomorrow."

"Cool. See ya."

As soon as his screen went blank, Peter flopped facedown onto the bed, hard enough to send his polar bear bouncing over the side and onto the floor. Sighing, he leaned over to grab the bear, hauling him back up and setting him down on his pillow. He'd been really hoping that his dads would've come home from D.C. that evening, but for how tired they'd both looked Peter supposed he wasn't surprised they were spending an extra night there.

And, knowing them, they probably weren't planning on telling him how the hearing went either.

"Hmph," Peter grumbled under his breath as he picked up his tablet, opening the file he'd created for his Government assignment earlier that day. He was supposed to look through the various bills scheduled for debate in the Senate and come up with his own opinions on how he believed the debate might go, based on who was sponsoring the bill, what the bill entailed, and how many people could eventually be affected by it. It seemed to be a rather dull assignment, but since his Government teacher was a rather dull person, he supposed he shouldn't be too surprised.

"Guess I may as well get started," Peter mumbled as he pulled up the corresponding website, which showed a list of the bills in PDF form. He scrolled through the list, bypassing several that he assumed would be chosen by his classmates since they were short, and therefore quicker to read through.

"Hmm," he said as his eyes landed on a rather large file, titled Alternative Budget Proposal, sponsored by some senator from Nebraska that Peter wasn't familiar with.

"Okay, but why would there be an alternative budget proposal without having an actual budget proposal first?" Peter mumbled as he opened the file, scanning through hundreds of pages of boring numbers and charts and graphs, until the word 'Superhero' suddenly caught his eye about three-fourths of the way through.

"What the… _hell?"_

Gulping, Peter tapped to expand the section, his belly swooping with the realisation that the bill sponsor must have deliberately hidden whatever this was deep inside this particular bill under the assumption that most people would be unlikely to come across it.

**The Superhero Registration Act**

_All enhanced individuals, either found to be inherently enhanced from birth or by artificial means or equipment, are hereby ordered to register with the United States Government._

_These enhanced individuals must provide the government with biometric data such as fingerprints and DNA samples, and any and all secret identities will be revealed to the United States Government._

_All enhanced individuals with innate powers must submit to a power analysis to categorise their threat level and determine any potential health risks. These power analyses will be conducted at the discretion of a specialised government committee, at a location to be determined by said committee._

_All enhanced individuals with innate powers, once their power analysis is complete, will wear a tracking bracelet at all times._

_Any enhanced individual who uses his or her powers to break the law, including those who take part in extralegal vigilante activities, or are otherwise determined to be a threat to the safety of the general public, may be arrested and detained indefinitely without trial._

_Any enhanced individual who refused to submit to this registration, or obstructs the actions of those attempting to enforce this registration, may be arrested and detained indefinitely without trial._

_The use of technology to bestow individuals with superhuman capabilities, either innate or otherwise, will fall under the strict regulation of the United States Government. This includes the creation or maintenance of any and all self-aware artificial intelligence._

_The group known as the Avengers will no longer be considered a private organisation, and will instead operate under the leadership and supervision of the United States Government._

Disbelieving, Peter read the section again. And again. And again, his mouth completely dry by the time he'd finished the third reread. His entire body was shaking, his hands clenched into such tight fists that his fingernails had broken through his skin.

It was Papa's worst fear, spelled out right there in front of him.

Identification, separation, and persecution.

"J-JARVIS?" Peter gasped, glancing over at his clock. It was already almost midnight, and he knew his dads were really tired, but maybe there was still a chance—

"Yes, Master Peter?"

"Um… are my dads still awake?"

"I'm afraid not, both Mr Stark and Captain Rogers are asleep. Would you like me to give them a message?"

Peter shook his head, licking his dry lips as he burrowed further down into his hoodie.

"N-no, thanks, I'll j-just t-talk to th-them tomorrow."

"Are you all right, Master Peter?" asked JARVIS. "Shall I summon Mr Wilson or Agent Romanoff?"

Peter squeezed his eyes closed, rapidly shaking his head. "No, I-I'm okay, just really c-cold. Could you please make my room a bit warmer?"

"Of course," JARVIS answered. Almost immediately, Peter felt the heat kick in inside his bedroom, the warm air from the ceiling vents hitting him on the back of his neck.

"Are you certain that you do not require assistance, Master Peter?" JARVIS asked.

"No, I'm better now, thanks," Peter replied. He decided to forgo putting on his pyjamas and brushing his teeth, and instead just crawled underneath his covers, clutching his polar bear to his chest and trying to stop his teeth from chattering.

"Very well, if you are absolutely sure," JARVIS said. The UI sounded unconvinced, but thankfully didn't bug him about it. "Would you like me to turn on the rain sounds?"

"Yes, please."

But, as Peter suspected, the rain sounds didn't help much, if at all. And when the alarm went off the next morning, having not slept a single wink, his body stiff and sore from being curled into a tight ball the entire night, it hit him then that it hadn't been just a dream after all.

It was actually happening. Or at least trying to happen.

Intellectually, Peter realised it was only a bill, which meant that it wasn't law yet and there was still the possibility that it wouldn't get passed. And, given the massive bill in which it was hidden, there would definitely have to be at least some debate on the subject.

Surely he couldn't be the only person to have actually read the thing, or who would protest as such a horrible injustice.

But somehow, as Peter slowly pulled on some clean clothes and ran his wet fingers through his unruly curls, he also had the sinking feeling that it was only a matter of time before the bill became law, and then—

_And then… it'll be just like Papa said._

_They'll come for us._

_They'll come for all of us._

* * *

_**I can't wait to see what you think! Please don't hesitate to leave me a review! :)**_


	13. Chapter 13

"Peter?" Gwen said from her place at the podium, snapping her fingers to break Peter out of his trance-like stare. "You still with us?"

"Huh?" Peter blinked as he shook his head, his eyes so scratchy and raw that they felt like they'd been coated with sand. "Sorry, I was just… I'm just kinda tired, and—"

"Well, I'm sure we're all a bit tired, but since we're only about a month away from the competition I think you might wanna start paying attention a bit more, okay?" said Gwen. "We're almost done for the day."

"Um, sure," answered Peter, trying very hard not to glare at Gwen. She had informed him after she took over as captain for Liz that she wouldn't be giving him any special treatment just because they were… _friends, _and she had definitely held herself to it. If anything, she was even harder and more demanding with him than she was with the rest of the team, almost as though she was trying to overcompensate, and Peter really didn't like it all that much.

"Yeah, sorry," he added as he picked up his pen, flipping it around his thumb. "I'm—I'm good."

With a sigh, Gwen shuffled the stack of index cards in her hands, eyeing the rest of the team before she started firing various questions at them, the sharp _ding_ of the bell with each answer rubbing against Peter's already fried nerves like a cheese grater. JARVIS had informed him about an hour ago that his dads had finally gotten home and would be able to pick him up from school, and he just knew that they were going to figure out that something was very wrong the second they laid eyes on him.

Sometimes he just _hated_ being such an open book all the time. No matter how hard he tried to hide stuff, both Dad and Papa were able to pretty much read him perfectly with just a brief glance, and his aunt and uncles only took a few seconds longer.

He could even tell that Gwen knew that something was up, especially since he had only managed to pick at his lunch earlier that day, his appetite almost nonexistent as Ned and Betty prattled on about something or other. Gwen hadn't had a chance to say anything yet, but Peter suspected that questions were coming as soon as practise was over.

And the worst part of it was, Peter had honestly no idea how he was going to be able to tell his dads about what he'd found. There was no way he could keep something that big a secret, not when all of their personal human liberties were at stake, but _damn… _just picturing the look of resigned horror on Papa's face was enough to turn Peter's stomach, not to mention how freaked out Dad was going to be.

He had overheard Dad and Papa arguing in Dad's lab late one night when he was trying to retrieve one of his books from the living room. Peter normally didn't like to eavesdrop on his dads when they were bickering, as their disagreements usually were something along the lines of how Dad wasn't taking care of himself the way Papa wanted him to or how Papa was working himself too hard in the gym. But then he had heard Papa say his name, and his curiosity ended up getting the better of him.

As it turned out, they were arguing about the fact that Papa had asked Uncle Thor to basically smuggle Peter and Dad to Asgard if something were to happen with the government where he no longer felt that it was safe, and Dad was trying to convince him that there would be "no way in hell" that he would leave Papa to "fend for himself against a pack of rabid wolves", and that Papa just needed to get over his "goddamn 1940's sentiment" and agree that Dad would stay by his side.

But Papa wouldn't agree.

Hence their argument.

And, knowing how stubborn they both were, Peter highly doubted that it had gotten resolved. The two of them could go round and round on the same topic for weeks and still not resolve things.

In fact, they still didn't agree on the proper way to squeeze toothpaste from the tube, which was just stupid because _everyone_ knew that you were supposed to squeeze it from the bottom and roll it up as you went, not from the middle like Dad did.

No wonder Uncle Clint sometimes threatened to shoot out their kneecaps.

"Peter, tell me who spoke the quote, 'Uncommon valor was a common virtue'?" Gwen commanded.

"Uhh, that was Admiral Nimitz," Peter said, frowning as he flipped his pen again, catching it just before it would have flown over the edge of the table. Normally he would've been able to just rattle off answer to that trivia question without hesitation, but apparently not today.

"That's correct," said Gwen approvingly, shuffling her cards. "Ned, in what year was the novel _Frankenstein_ published?"

"1818," answered Ned.

"Very good. Can you tell me the exact date in that year?"

"January the first," said Ned. "But it was originally published anonymously. The novel didn't officially carry Mary Shelley's name until it was rereleased in 1823."

"Excellent, Ned, that's correct!" Gwen exclaimed with a wide smile. "Now, Peter, can you tell me the atomic mass of tungsten?"

"Ah, 183.84 u," replied Peter.

"That's correct, very good. Now, how about the football team that won Super Bowl twenty-three?"

"Um, the San Francisco 49ers?" Peter had gone over the Super Bowl teams with Uncle James and Uncle Sam on the flight out to Italy, so they were mostly fresh in his mind.

"Yes, that's correct," said Gwen. "Just make sure you don't sound like you're uncertain though, we don't want to give the competition any kind of edge. State all of your answers proudly and affirmatively, even if you're not quite sure if you're right."

"That's very good advice, Gwen," said Mr Harrington from his seat over by the bleachers. "No sense in punching holes in your confidence, you'll all be plenty nervous on the day of the competition as it is. I've had quite a few students over the years that end up barfing their guts out into the trash cans right outside the auditorium before the speeches, and that's a terrible time to be tasting your own vomit in the back of your mouth."

Silence fell across the gym as the entire team gave a collective shudder, with Gwen finally clearing her throat.

"Um… thanks for that, Mr Harrington, but I'm sure we're gonna be so well-prepared that we won't have to worry about any of that. Yeah." She sucked in a deep breath, shooting Peter a brief grimace. "And on that note, why don't we call it a day?"

"You know, Gwen, that's a great idea," Mr Harrington said as he shot to his feet so fast it was like he had sat down on a pushpin or something and started running towards the exit. "'Cause I just remembered that I forgot to turn off my coffeepot before I left this morning, and… oh boy, that'll be the third one this month already, and… um… class dismissed!"

Ned's eyes were wide as he watched Mr Harrington disappear out of the gym. "Wow. You gotta wonder sometimes, don't you?"

"Yeah," Peter answered, his eyes just as wide, which he quickly realised wasn't such a good idea given how scratchy they were. He squeezed them closed, rubbing them with one hand as he fumbled in his backpack for his glasses.

"Okay, well, I think Betty's waiting for me, we're gonna go get some ice cream," said Ned as the other students headed for the exit. "So I guess I'll see ya tomorrow?"

"Sounds good." Peter pulled on his jacket, swinging his backpack over his shoulder as Gwen packed up her index cards.

"So, you wanna tell me what's wrong?" she asked as they headed out of the gym. "I don't think I've ever seen you drop your pen as many times as you did today during practise, and you've been acting funny ever since you got to school."

Peter sniffed, pushing his glasses up his nose as he shoved his hands into his pockets. He wanted to tell Gwen what was wrong—well, actually, that wasn't quite the truth. What he _really_ wanted was to fly back to their spring break villa in Italy and bury his head in the sand, but since that didn't seem to be an option at the moment, he thought he probably should tell Gwen what he'd found.

But he also felt like he should tell his dads first, since it directly affected their entire family.

"Peter?" Gwen said as they reached the doors leading to the parking lot. "Is everything all right?"

Peter's lower lip was trembling as he shook his head, his dry eyes stinging with tears. "No," he choked out. "Everything's not all right, like, not at _all, _but—I gotta talk to my dads first before I say anything, okay?"

"Okay, now you're really worrying me," Gwen said, her pretty face etched with concern. "You sure you can't give me a hint or something? You're not sick, are you?"

"No, no, it's nothing like that," Peter assured her. He pulled off his glasses, rubbing at his eyes with his knuckles. "I'm just—I'm sorry, Gwen, but I really gotta talk to my dads first, all right? I promise I'll tell you as soon as I can."

"Mmm, okay," Gwen said warily. "Are they coming to pick you up?"

"Yeah, they got back into town a couple hours ago."

"Well, that's good I guess, 'cause you look like you're about ready to drop." She reached out to squeeze Peter's arm. "Whatever it is, I hope it's not as bad as you're thinking."

More tears welled in Peter's eyes, with one escaping to roll down his cheek as Gwen wound her arms around his neck and pulled him into a hug.

"I wish I could agree with you," Peter murmured into her hair, her gorgeous, silky blonde hair that always smelled like honeysuckle and something else that he couldn't quite place. Sandalwood, maybe? Whatever it was, it was glorious, and apparently just what he needed at the moment. He breathed in deeply, feeling his tense muscles relax just enough to un-numb his toes and slightly lessen the tight pain across his shoulder blades.

"Did you hear that they're gonna hold a dance for the freshman and sophomores?" Gwen asked once she pulled back. "It's the night before the regular prom, the first Friday in June."

"Yeah, I saw Betty putting up some signs about it," Peter answered, internally kicking himself. Normally he'd be jumping for joy at the possibility of getting to go to a dance with Gwen, but at the moment…

"Okay, so…" Gwen said. "Do you think—?"

"Would you want to go with me?" Peter asked, almost without thinking, which was apparently the exact right thing to say when Gwen squeaked, bursting into an excited smile.

"Yes," she said, rather shyly. "I was hoping we could go together, do you think your dads will let you?"

Peter gave a shrug, wincing when even that slight movement was enough to send pain shooting across his back. "I'll ask 'em, but I don't see why not."

"Oh, that's awesome!" she exclaimed as she hugged him again. "I think it'll be fun!"

"Yeah," Peter said softly. _I hope so._

"But I'm gonna be worried about you now until you can call tonight," Gwen said once she released him. "I've never seen you like this before."

"I'll be okay," Peter said automatically, realising how stupid it sounded when Gwen gave him a _yeah, sure_ face. "Or at least, I hope I'll be okay."

"Me too." Gwen took his hand as she pushed the exit door open to find Mr Stacy already there, sitting in his unmarked patrol car.

"Hello, Peter!" Mr Stacy called as he poked his head out the window to wave in their direction, with Gwen heaving a sigh. "Nice to see you!"

"Hello, Mr Stacy!" Peter called back, grateful that at least his voice didn't crack or something. The third degree from Gwen had been bad enough, he didn't need her father to start barking questions at him too.

"I don't really want to leave you alone," Gwen said quietly. "When are your dads supposed to get here?"

"They should be here in a few minutes," Peter said, just as Papa's truck pulled into the parking lot. "Or now, I guess." He forced himself to attempt a smile, earning a quirked eyebrow from Gwen in return.

"Will you call me tonight?" she asked. "Please?"

"I'll try, okay?" Peter answered, his heart dropping at the look of anguish on Gwen's face. "I'll at least text if nothing else."

Gwen gave a nod. "Okay. See you tomorrow."

"Uh huh." Peter watched as she got into her dad's car, breathing in deeply. He couldn't remember the last time he had been so afraid of an upcoming conversation.

And, just like he'd suspected, he had barely climbed into the backseat of the truck and fastened his seatbelt when Dad suddenly whipped his head around, looking back at him in alarm.

"Pete? What's wrong, something happen at school?"

Peter tipped his head back against the seat, trying to keep his tears contained. He could feel his papa's worried blue eyes practically boring a hole through his skull via the rearview mirror, but he really didn't want to get into it right there in the truck.

"No, school was okay," he said. "I'm just… can we just get home first? Please?"

"Sure, little guy," Papa said gently, his eyebrows knitted together in what Dad always called his worry wrinkle. Peter hated that worry wrinkle almost as much as Dad did, and even more so when he was the cause of it.

They were silent the rest of the way home, and it wasn't until they were all sitting on the squashy couch in the living room with steaming cups of hot chocolate that Papa placed his big hand on Peter's shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"Can you tell us now, little guy?" he said softly. He moved his hand to the back of Peter's neck, digging the pads of his fingers into Peter's tight muscles as Dad's jaw twitched in anticipation.

_This really freaking sucks!_ Peter thought, biting his bottom lip. Both Dad and Papa looked about as exhausted as he felt, and the fact that they had refused to tell him anything about their meeting down in D.C. could only mean that it hadn't gone well, so…

"C'mon, Pete, it'll be better once you get it out," said Dad.

"No, I'm not really sure that it will," Peter mumbled. He leaned forward, reaching for his tablet on the coffee table. "I—we—um… we got a new assignment in our Government class yesterday, we're supposed to choose one of the bills that are pending debate in the Senate and write about it… and when I went looking through them, I—I found—I found—"

He broke off, shaking his head as he pulled up the bill's text with the offensive sections already highlighted, and handed it to Papa.

"I found _that."_

The penthouse was eerily quiet while Papa read it over, with Peter focusing in on the sound of Papa and Dad's distinct heartbeats as he tried to keep himself from just dissolving into a complete sea of panic. His throat was raw from the tears he'd been trying to hold back since the night before, and most of his muscles felt as stiff as iron rods.

And then Papa finished, handing Dad the tablet with the exact look of resigned horror on his pale face that Peter had both predicted and dreaded. His fingers tightened every-so-slightly on Peter's shoulder as Dad read, almost as though he was afraid that Peter was going to be snatched away from him if he let go.

"Holy shit," Dad said slowly, his hand holding the tablet dropping to his lap. "Those goddamn sons of bitches are really going for it."

"Tony—" Papa started, with Dad cutting him off with a single sharp look.

"No, nope, nada. Don't you _even_ try and bring that up right now, Steve," he warned, his voice rising with every word. He got to his feet, curling his fingers around his left arm as he started pacing back and forth. "Don't you _even_ try and pull that bullshit chivalrous nonsense again, 'cause I have already told you multiple times that it's not a goddamn option, so there's no point in you wasting your breath—"

"And I've told _you_ that I'm not going to allow you or Peter to become slaves to the government, or whatever else they're planning on doing with this!" Papa protested as he got to his feet, taking Dad by the elbow. "Tony, I can't do it, you know that I can't!"

Dad's eyes narrowed as he stared at Papa's shaking chin. "Well, you're just gonna have to figure out a way then, 'cause it's not gonna happen. There is absolutely no way in _hell_ that I'm leaving you to fight this alone! Thor can take Peter, but I'm staying right here and that is it!"

"But what if I don't wanna go anywhere?" Peter cried, immediately clapping his hands over his ears as he broke into a cold sweat. He tipped over sideways on the couch, curling into a tight ball and wishing he could just sink down into the cushions and disappear. His senses were already going bonkers since he hadn't slept the night before, and listening to his dads shouting at each other was only making it worse. "Why would you think that I'd want to be separated from either of you, isn't that exactly what the Nazis did? Ripped families apart? Why should we let the government rip ours apart when we can still fight back? Isn't that the very reason why they're trying this? 'Cause they're afraid we'll fight back? They just want to control us, that's all this is!"

Both Dad and Papa turned to look at him, their expressions the exact same mix of pride and anguish. Papa scrubbed a palm down his face as he dropped to his knees in front of Peter, gathering him into his arms and burying his nose into Peter's hair. He reached a hand behind him which Dad promptly took, allowing Papa to tuck him in close too.

"The last thing in the world that I want is to be separated from the two of you," Papa said, his voice raw, like he'd been shouting at the top of his lungs for the last three days. "But I know I couldn't live with myself if I let anything happen to you, not if I thought I could prevent it. And the way I see it, the best way to keep you both safe is to get you as far away from here as possible, and preferably before this bill gets passed. Because I wouldn't put it past them to come banging on our door before the ink is even dry, and that's just not something that I'm prepared to allow. Not while I'm still alive."

"Goddamnit, Steve, you don't need to be talking like that," Dad muttered into Papa's chest. "You're gonna scare the kid."

"I'm not scared, I'm mad," Peter said sharply. Now that his dads knew what was happening, the fear that had consumed him ever since the previous night was being rapidly replaced with anger. "Who do these people think they are, thinking they can just single us out because we're a bit different from them? It's the worst kind of discrimination, and I can't believe that you think we should just run away from it instead of fighting back."

Papa's throat bobbed as he swallowed, cupping Peter's cheek in his hand. "You're right, little guy. You're absolutely right that people need to fight back against discrimination like this. But Peter, this is HYDRA, and you're just a child, you have your whole life ahead of you, and—"

"But I'm _not_ a child, why can't you see that?" Peter snapped, pushing against papa's chest and almost knocking him over. "I'm a teenager, and I'm even stronger than you! Papa, you _know _that! So why can't I fight too? Why can't I stand up for myself against the bullies just like you and Dad?"

"Buddy—" Dad started.

"No! Don't give me the same stupid excuses that you always do just 'cause you guys are scared! I'm not a child—!"

"You're _my _child!" yelled Dad. He huffed out a sharp breath as he took hold of Peter's shoulders with shaking hands. "You're _our_ child, and I don't give a _damn_ how strong you are, or the fact that you call yourself a teenager, you're still our responsibility, and we're gonna do what we think is best for you whether you like it or not!"

"But you can't even agree on what's best!" shouted Peter. He tore himself from Dad's grasp and shot to his feet, running his fingers through his already wild curls. "You guys have been going round and round about this for weeks already, so which is it? What exactly is the best for me?" He paused for a second, his heart racing so fast that he felt lightheaded. "Sometimes I think you wish that I was still that weak, sickly kid that I always was, instead of what I've become."

Slowly, Papa stood up, his blue eyes too tortured for Peter to even look at as he reached for him, wrapping his arms around him.

"That's not true at all, Peter," he said, and a shiver shot down Peter's spine at how scared he sounded. "It's just like Dad said, it doesn't matter how strong you are, or that you can fly through the air on your webs or climb up walls, you're still just—"

"Don't say child," Peter warned. "Just… don't. I can stop a bus with my bare hands, I'm not just a child."

"All right, then you're still our son, our boy, if you will," said Papa. "And I don't know if anything that we say will help you see it from our perspective, but please, just try, okay? We've already come so close to losing you so many times, little guy, and I suppose that tends to skew our view of things, but that's only because we love you so much and it would kill us both to have anything happen to you."

Peter sighed, allowing his stiff body to relax against Papa's as Dad kissed the top of his head. "Papa said all that a lot better than I could've, Pete," Dad said quietly. "All we want is what's best for you, and you know that you're more than a bit biased here."

"Okay, fine, but then what is the best?" asked Peter. "'Cause I really don't think that sending me away and reducing your potential fighting force is." He didn't add that as much as he would love to visit Asgard with Uncle Thor, he absolutely didn't want it to be under those kind of circumstances.

Papa locked eyes with Dad over Peter's head, quirking his eyebrow, with Dad's shoulders sagging in response.

"I wish I knew what was best, little guy," Papa said. "I wish I knew if it was safer for you and Dad to stay here with me or if it was better to send you away, but I don't. I wish I knew exactly who outside of our family we can trust, but I don't. Right now the only thing that I do know, is the very thing that I've been most afraid of ever since that battle in the Miami bunker is now spelled out right here in black and white, which means that my contingency plans have to start taking shape a lot sooner than I originally thought, and—"

"Steve, honey, you're talking like this is already a done deal," Dad said gently. "And I know that committee meeting and what we saw down in D.C. isn't helping anything, but we've gotta remember that not everyone is buying into this stuff. If they were, they wouldn't've needed to hide it under a literal mountain of political rhetoric, so maybe we should just cool our heels until we know something more definite."

Peter could tell that Dad was just as rattled by all of this as Papa, but was trying very hard to not give into it, as he'd been doing pretty much ever since the attack at the lake up at the Compound. Papa had been struggling so hard for so long, and while he had been getting a bit better lately, mostly due to Uncle Sam's help, it seemed to be at a snail's pace, and Peter knew that Dad was trying everything humanly possible to avoid adding to Papa's stress.

Which, Peter realised, only ended up adding to _his_ stress, but he never seemed to appreciate it when Peter pointed that out.

Dad reached for Papa's hand, rubbing his fingers across Papa's knuckles the way he always did when Papa was being extra twitchy. "Now that we know what they're trying we have a bit of an advantage, and we still have the majority of the public opinion on our side too, don't forget that."

"I haven't," Papa said softly. "Especially if Thor's popularity is any indication."

"It should be," Peter said. "There's not a single person in my class who doesn't think that Uncle Thor's just totally awesome, and they all think the rest of the Avengers are pretty cool too. In fact, Gwen was just telling me that her little brother talks about you guys all the time around his own friends, and I'm sure he's not the only one. This has to be just a subset of the government who just wants to control everything."

"It is, Peter, and they're called HYDRA," said Papa. "And everything that's happened since Project Insight has convinced me this was their backup plan all along. It's a lot slower and more involved than those giant helicarriers, but I think their objective is the same. They want to control people through fear."

"So… you're thinking that they just need to take out the opposition first?" asked Peter.

"I think that's part of it, little guy. HYDRA has always tried to take out as much of its opposition as possible." Papa gave Dad's hand a quick squeeze, no doubt thinking of Grandpa and Grandma Stark and how they were killed on HYDRA's orders. "But Dad and I have also theorised that the main reason why they gave us all that drug in the Miami bunker was to take over our minds, probably to try and force us to become part of them."

"Like a souped-up version of the trigger words," Peter mumbled. He let out a hard shudder, fatigue pulsing through his body with every beat of his heart. His legs felt like jello, his head was pounding, and his vision was so wonky that he could barely keep his eyes open.

"C'mon, buddy, I think we need to get you something to eat before you pass out, yeah?" Dad said. "And then right to bed after you do your homework."

"Uh huh." Peter allowed Papa to lift him to his feet, setting him back down on the couch. He did feel a bit better after he ate a few slices of Papa's awesome homemade pizza, and after tackling his physics and chemistry homework and taking a long hot shower, he crawled into his bed, cuddling his polar bear to his chest while his dads hovered over him.

"Try and sleep now, bud," Dad murmured as he kissed Peter's forehead. "You'll feel better in the morning."

"Uh huh," Peter said, his eyelids already heavy. He blinked them open again, forcing himself to focus on Dad's face. "Um… I need to ask you guys something else, it doesn't have anything to do with… well, anything, but—"

"What is it, buddy?"

Peter gulped, remembering the hopeful look on Gwen's face when she told him about the dance. "Um… the school is gonna hold a kind of a prom for the underclassmen, it's the night before the regular prom, the first Friday in June, and I was—Gwen and I, we were hoping that—that we could go. So, you think we could go?"

Dad's lips twitched as he glanced over at Papa, just for a second, giving him the 'it's-all-right-honey' eyebrow. "I don't see why not, bud. I'll tell Happy tomorrow morning to plan on having the guards available for the school, okay?"

"Really?" Peter breathed, too exhausted to mount any more excitement than that. "Oh, thank you! Gwen's gonna be so happy!"

"Try and sleep now, little guy, okay?" said Papa as he tucked Peter's blankets over his shoulder and kissed his head. "We can talk more about what you'll need for the dance tomorrow."

"Uh huh. 'Night."

As soon as he heard his dads' footsteps disappear down the hallway, Peter grabbed for his phone, typing out a quick text to Gwen that they had said yes to the dance and that he would talk to her more about it tomorrow. He smiled when he got a response barely three seconds later; she'd apparently been waiting to hear from him.

_**You feeling better now?**_

_**A bit. I'll tell you more about it tomorrow, okay? Really tired.**_

_**Okay. See you then.**_

_**Goodnight.**_

But as exhausted as he was, once Peter set down his phone he found that he couldn't go to sleep, his mind still spinning. He had a strong feeling that something had happened during his dads' meeting down in D.C. that was only corroborating what he had found in that bill, and it both worried and annoyed him that Dad and Papa still thought him too young to share whatever it was.

Maybe it was time to start working on another override protocol for JARVIS, and finally see what they'd been hiding ever since they got back from Mongolia.

"Looks like we're gonna be up to Hufflepuff5 soon," he murmured into his polar bear's neck. "And probably even more than that."

"Pardon me, Master Peter?" JARVIS said. "I didn't quite catch that?"

Peter shook his head, burrowing further into his blankets. "It's nothing JARVIS, just talking to myself."

"Ah, I see. You seem to have that in common with your father."

"Yeah," Peter said with a light chuckle. He had often suspected that one of Dad's reasons for inventing JARVIS in the first place was so that he could have someone besides Peter to talk to that didn't constantly want something from him.

"Goodnight, JARVIS," he added. "Can you please turn on the rain sounds?"

"Of course, Master Peter," said JARVIS. "And sweet dreams."

_Not likely, _Peter thought as the sound of gently falling rain filled his bedroom.

Because he highly doubted that his dreams would be anything close to sweet until HYDRA was completely dead and buried, and it was high time that he stopped being so stinking afraid, and started doing more to help.

Like Dr Erskine had told Papa when he selected him for the SSR, maybe what they needed now weren't the big, strong heroes.

Maybe what they needed now was the little guy.

* * *

"Babe, come and get ready for bed, yeah? You've gotta be tired," Tony said as he emerged from their master bathroom to find Steve slumped in the armchair in the corner, his elbows resting on his knees and his chin in his hand, with his worry wrinkle etched so deeply between his eyes that it looked like it could've bitten Tony on the nose if he got too close.

"Babe?" Tony said again as he crouched down in front of his husband, gently tugging on his left hand. "C'mon, it's not gonna do any good to just sit here and brood all night."

Steve huffed, his blue eyes filled with such intense self-loathing that Tony flinched as they locked with his. He _hated_ seeing that look in Steve's eyes, _hated _seeing so much internal blame and second-guessing behind them, as if everything that was happening was somehow his fault.

It was something that Tony could at least understand, having so much experience with it himself, but that still didn't mean it was the truth.

"Steve?"

"I can't, sweetheart," Steve finally whispered. "I can't—I can't relax, not now, not with everything, and I'll only keep you awake. You go ahead, you need the sleep more than I do."

"Oh c'mon, that's just bullshit and you know it," Tony muttered. "You may be able to stay awake for a couple days at a time, but even you aren't at your best when you're tired, and honey? Trust me, you're tired. I'm pretty sure the bags under your eyes are big enough to travel the world for at least a year, so please, just come to bed?"

"Tony…" Steve said, dropping his chin to his chest when Tony tilted his head, giving him his best rendition of Peter's puppy-dog eyes. "All right, but I don't think I'll be able to get any sleep. Not with…"

His voice trailed off as he pushed himself up off the chair and shuffled towards the bathroom, but Tony caught his meaning anyway.

"_Not with everything that's happened in the past couple days. Not with this new threat hanging over our heads."_

"_Not with my mission incomplete."_

And no matter how many times Tony tried to tell him that he had never been expected to take down HYDRA on his own, not during the war—wasn't that what the Howling Commandos and the rest of the SSR were for?—and certainly not now, Steve didn't believe him.

_Goddamn stubborn fool. If I didn't love him so damn much, I'd—_

But the truth of the matter was, Tony _did_ love him that damn much, so much that it caused him physical pain every single time Steve started in on one of his self-deprecating rants.

As soon as he heard Steve brushing his teeth, Tony crawled into bed, groaning as various joints cracked and popped as he attempted to relax into the mattress. Back when he and Steve first started sharing a bed, Steve would often rub Tony's shoulders for him at night, massaging away the tightness from a day of working in the lab or dealing with the Stark Industries Board of Directors. Afterwards, as long as Tony was still conscious, he would return the favour, kneading his knuckles into the solid muscles of Steve's shoulders and back and chuckling at all the silly noises that Steve made.

Those were the simpler times, back when they were just training for the next possible alien invasion and trying to figure out what the hell was wrong with Peter.

And then their Malibu house got blown up, and everything started going to shit.

But it wasn't Steve's fault. None of it was Steve's fault.

If anything, it was Tony's.

It had been Obadiah who had arranged to have Tony and Peter attacked and captured in Afghanistan. It had been Obadiah who'd had Peter ripped from Tony's arms in that freezing-cold cave and dragged away to be experimented on, and it had been Obadiah who had then hooked up with Aldrich Killian, who tried to convert Peter into another Winter Soldier.

If he had just gotten rid of Obie when he'd first thought about it, not too long after he had brought Peter home from the hospital, then maybe none of this would've happened. But he had been too afraid, too worried about possibly jeopardizing the company—and Peter's inheritance—that he didn't want to rock the boat. Despite all of his faults, Obie was a decent enough CFO, and Tony hadn't wanted to make any major changes to the company's infrastructure while he was still learning how to parent a very high-needs baby.

Steve stepped out of the bathroom then, proceeding to strip out of his clothes and into a pair of the loose pyjama pants that he usually wore to bed. Tony had gotten him a few new pairs for Christmas, including a pair designed after Tony's Iron Man armour which were Tony's new favourites. Steve always looked amazing in blue, but he looked pretty damn good in the Iron Man red too.

He crawled into the bed, cuddling up right next to Tony with his head resting on Tony's chest so he could hear his heartbeat. Tony buried his fingers into his thick blond hair and dug his fingertips into his scalp, pulling a soft moan from Steve's throat.

"Mmm, don't stop," Steve mumbled into Tony's neck. "Feels good."

"See? I told ya you were exhausted," Tony murmured.

"Still doesn't mean I'm gonna sleep," Steve said, rather petulantly. Tony huffed as he dropped his hand from Steve's head, rolling his eyes.

"And why not? Just to prove me wrong?"

Steve let out a heavy sigh as he lifted his head, propping himself up on his elbow. "No, sweetheart, I just—I can't help but think… what are we missing? There has to be something that we've overlooked, something hidden in those files that we haven't found yet that connects more of the dots."

"I know babe, but like Bruce said, if we try and rush through that decryption, we risk losing more of the files due to mistakes," said Tony. "We've already lost more than I'm comfortable with, so we're trying to be extra careful with the rest. We'll figure it out, it's just gonna take a bit more time."

Nodding, Steve laid his head back down, sliding his leg across Tony's lap as Tony kissed the top of his head.

"Even so, I'm still gonna start making some contingency plans," Steve said. "I know the bill hasn't been passed yet, and judging from that committee meeting we may still have some members of the government who aren't buying into all this, but we still need to be prepared. Hope for the best, but plan for the worst."

"Makes sense, as long as those plans don't include trying to ship me off to Asgard."

"Mmm. No comment."

"Goddamnit, Steve—"

"Not now, sweetheart, okay? Please, can't I just hold you for a little while?"

Tony's heart skittered at the fear in Steve's voice, at how defeated he sounded. He had been able to hold himself together pretty well after the committee meeting, better than Tony had, actually, but this newest revelation seemed to have tipped him right over the edge again. Speaking with the rest of the team once Peter was in bed, Steve had barely been able to keep his voice from cracking when he brought up the senate bill, something Tony knew didn't escape their teammates' notice.

And that just wasn't going to work. Tony wasn't about to allow Steve to lose another battle with his fear demon now, not when they were finally getting all the pieces together of what exactly they were up against.

"Babe, you do realise that this is exactly what they want, right?" he said gently. "HYDRA? Wasn't the whole point of Project Insight to control people through fear?"

"That's always been HYDRA's goal," Steve said quietly. "You heard Zola in that recording, he came right out and said that they wanted to take humanity's freedoms and replace them with chaos, and chaos always induces fear."

"Yeah, I'd say the chance of being shot at from orbiting super-helicarriers wouldn't be something that I'd enjoy very much." Tony bit his lip, he was going to have to tread carefully here. "But, Steve… even though we managed to stop Project Insight, and Obie and Killian, HYDRA has still managed to control us through our own fear since then, don't you think?"

Steve was quiet for several minutes, until Tony worried that he'd actually pushed him too far when he finally lifted his head, cupping Tony's cheek.

"You're right, you know," he said, his voice quavering. "You're absolutely right, but I—I don't—I just don't know _how_—sweetheart, I just don't know how to make it _stop!_ I'm supposed to be the Captain of this team, the person that everyone else looks to, so _why_ can't I just make it _stop?_"

The despair in Steve's voice was so palpable that it felt almost suffocating, smothering Tony like the bags the Ten Rings had used to cover his head in Afghanistan. Tony gasped, forcibly stamping that horrible demon down, deep into the recesses of his memory where it belonged.

But how many times had Tony wondered the exact same thing?

Why?

Why him? Why them?

Why, why, _why?_

Tony had even asked Sam that question a few times since he'd moved into the Tower, but not even he had a decent answer for it. His standard answer was that it was his job to help the team move forward from the whys and the what ifs, not to dwell on them.

But somehow that didn't often help all that much. Especially not when it seemed like the demons always managed to wind up on top while he, Steve, and Peter were just left there hanging.

_Why?_

"I don't know why, honey," Tony finally whispered. He leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to Steve's forehead. "I'm not sure we'll ever really know why. I do think you tend to put a bit too much pressure on yourself, and I also think you sometimes see things as pure black and white when there's usually a few shades of grey thrown in there."

"There's no grey area for me when it comes to you and Peter, Tony," Steve said firmly. "Absolutely none. And there never will be."

"I know that, honey, but the rest of it… sometimes I wonder if the very fact that our team is also our family makes it even worse for you when things go wrong." Tony paused, swallowing hard. "Like when Bucky fell from the train? It hit you so hard because he was your best friend, someone you thought that you loved, where if it would've been Morita or Dugan or any of the other men under your command you still would've mourned him, but not quite in the same way."

Steve breathed out a shaky breath, his lower lip quivering as he gave a short nod, burrowing back into Tony's side.

"That makes sense," he murmured. "Not sure how much it helps, though."

"Yeah, well, that's why Sam is Sam, and I'm… not," Tony muttered. He tightened his arms around Steve, weaving his fingers through his hair and inhaling the incredible scent of his skin, letting it permeate throughout his body like a calming drug.

He was more addicted to Steve than he'd ever been to Scotch or gambling or anything else, and that was saying something.

"Let's just try and sleep now, yeah? We can get back to work tomorrow." Tony pressed against Steve's scalp again, relieved when Steve's strong body started to relax.

"Have you heard back from your FBI connection about Toomes?" Steve asked after several heartbeats of silence.

Tony frowned. It was a bit weird that Agent Bartlett hadn't yet returned Tony's call, he'd never had any reason to ignore him before.

"No, not yet. I'll give him another call in the morning, see what's up."

"Okay, but I'm not sure if we should push that too hard anymore, especially after the committee meeting and now this bill. I think our main focus should be finishing the decryption of those files, and searching for a hard connection between HYDRA and Justin Hammer."

"Yeah," Tony whispered, his upper lip curling into a sneer at the mention of Justin Hammer. "I'm pretty sure we can count that asshole Davis as one of 'em, and the dude who sponsored the bill that Pete found, and most likely the president too, but as for hard evidence, that's probably gonna be pretty scarce, babe. HYDRA's done a pretty damn good job of hiding its tracks so far, and I don't see that changing until they want it to change."

"I know," said Steve. "But I still think we can do it."

"And once we do? Then what?"

Steve's hand tightened on Tony's shoulder as he burrowed even further into Tony's neck. "Then we fight back, just like Peter said."

Tony breathed in, holding it before slowly letting it out. Now _that_ sounded a lot more like Captain America instead of a panicking husband and father. Maybe Tony had actually managed to get through to him.

"You mean all of us, right?" he said carefully. "The whole team?"

But Steve only shook his head, pressing a soft kiss to Tony's collarbone. "Sleep now, mo grá," he whispered. "I've got you."

_And I've got you,_ Tony thought as he pressed down on Steve's scalp again. Steve moaned as Tony hit the particularly sensitive spot that almost functioned like his own personal off button, massaging his fingertips over it until Steve's tired moans grew quieter and his breathing more even.

"There you go, honey," he whispered into Steve's hair once he was fast asleep. "I've got you."

_And there's no way in hell that I'm letting you go._

* * *

Peter sucked in a deep breath as he knocked on the thick wooden door that led into Pepper's office, the office he'd spent so much of his life in when he was little. Not wanting to be away from him most of the time, Dad had set up an entire mini-nursery on one side of the massive room, complete with crib, rocking chair, cordoned-off play area, mini fridge and microwave for his bottles and food, and enough toys and books for probably three kids. Peter had spent at least part of almost every single day there until he was old enough to start school, and then after school he would usually hang out in there again until Dad was done working and they could go home.

And it was even better once their penthouse was finally done, because then they only had to ride the elevator up to their home instead of driving back out to Grandpa's mansion in the suburbs. Even as a little kid Peter could tell that Dad was uncomfortable there, almost as though Grandpa's ghost was haunting him or something, which Peter always thought was a bit odd since their Malibu house had also originally belonged to Grandpa, but Dad didn't seem to mind it quite as much.

Whatever the reason, Dad was a lot more relaxed once they moved into the Tower penthouse.

"Come on in, Peter," Pepper called through the door, her secretary having already announced that he was on his way.

"Hey, kiddo," she said once Peter poked his head inside, trying not to wrinkle his nose at the almost overwhelming scent of citrus that filled the room from the scented vaporising thingy over in the far corner. Peter usually loved oranges and tangerines and would often eat half a bag of them at a time if given the chance, but for some reason whatever Pepper was pumping into the air in there didn't smell quite right. Too perfume-y.

"So, what's going on? My secretary said you wanted to requisition another computer?"

"Yeah," Peter said, awkwardly rubbing his nose. Dad had given him permission a long time ago to just take whatever equipment he needed from the Stark Industries stockrooms as long as it wasn't a prototype or on backorder or something, but since Pepper took over as CEO he had always asked her first before taking anything. He didn't want some poor stockroom person getting fired if the meticulous records that Pepper kept didn't balance out.

"Yeah, I need it for a new school project I'm working on," said Peter. "Just one of the regular laptops though, nothing too fancy. I just wanted to let you know first."

"Well, you know I always appreciate that," Pepper said with a kind smile, waving her hand towards the door. "Go ahead and grab what you need, and then just send the stockroom supervisor an email with the serial number so they can take it off the stock list, all right?"

"Uh huh," Peter said, breathing a slight sigh of relief. "Thanks Pepper, I really appreciate it."

"It's no problem, kiddo." She glanced down at her desk, signing a piece of paper. "You guys all doing okay up there on the upper floors?"

"Eh, you know," Peter said with a shrug. "We're hanging in there."

"Well, that's about all you can do," said Pepper. "You'll let me know if there's anything I can do to help?"

Peter gave a nod, trying to not look too impatient. Now that he had his permission all he wanted to do was get started.

"Uh huh. Thanks."

Hurrying back to the elevator, Peter tapped his foot impatiently as he rode another five floors down to where the stockrooms were housed, waving his Stark Industries ID badge across the electronic lock. The computers were kept in the same area as the rest of the electronics, cell phones, and tablets, and while the regular stock laptops weren't quite as nice and didn't have as much memory as his own that was custom-made, he only needed to add a bit more processing speed to what he already had, so it would hopefully be enough.

Thankfully, both Dad and Papa were still otherwise occupied when Peter got back to the penthouse, so he was able to sneak back into his room without being spotted. Dad had been holed up in his lab ever since he'd gotten home from school, working furiously on the MAUDE glasses that he was hoping to have ready within the next week, and Papa was down in the gym for his late afternoon workout. Peter had noticed that he'd been spending even more time down there than usual since he and Dad had gotten back from D.C., which, given what he'd discovered while they were gone, didn't really surprise him.

Dad handled stress by working and tinkering until he dropped, Papa handled it by running marathons and punching the hell out of things, and Peter… well…

Peter was going to do something that he should've done a long, long time ago.

He was going to figure out exactly what his family was up against, and then he was going to help them stop it.

"All right," Peter said as he finished setting up the new laptop, nearly doubling his memory capacity and processing speed. Cracking his knuckles, he proceeded to upload the new JARVIS override that he had finished writing during his Government class earlier that day, adding a couple of finishing touches to the coding to make sure that it couldn't be traced.

"Please work, please work, please work," he muttered as he tapped the Enter key and the override went to work, pulling all of the files that Dad had transferred from the HYDRA facilities the team had raided back in the fall. He let out an excited, "Yes!" as hundreds of documents began scrolling across his screen, the ones already decrypted highlighted in yellow. Biting his lip, Peter selected the first undecrypted file that he saw, dragging it across to his second screen so he could take a closer look.

At first glance the file appeared to be nothing but gibberish, and gibberish written in Russian at that, which Peter had been expecting given that it came from a HYDRA facility. He squeezed his eyes closed, looking away from the screen as he rubbed at them. He probably should've grabbed his glasses out of his backpack before he started working, but he honestly didn't even know where he'd left either of them at the moment, and he didn't want to risk running into one of his dads before he was done.

Blinking his eyes back open, Peter returned his gaze to the screen, jerking his head back in surprise when he noticed that the gibberish had somehow changed. He leaned closer, narrowing his eyes, his mouth falling open as he watched the text literally morph back into the original Russian characters that were displayed when he first opened the file, almost like they were animated.

"What in the hell kind of file is this?" Peter murmured as he blinked again, allowing his vision to relax into the honeycomb-like state that it tended towards when he was tired. The technical term for it was compound vision, which was commonly found in insects—although not spiders, funnily enough—and Peter usually hated it as it often gave him headaches if he didn't get his glasses on in time, but now…

Now… it almost seemed like these files were coded in such a way that…

"Holy shit," Peter said as the words practically jumped out at him from the screen, like a poor-man's version of 3-D. It was still written in Russian, but from what little of the language he had managed to pick up thanks to Uncle Bucky and Auntie Nat, Peter could tell these were actual words written in the Cyrillic alphabet, instead of just random combinations of characters.

Not taking his eyes off the screen, Peter fumbled around on his bed until he came across his external keyboard, connecting it via Bluetooth to his tablet and opening a clean document file.

"JARVIS, can you please open a Russian/ English dictionary on my tablet?" he asked as he started typing, hoping that any typos he made wouldn't be enough to skew the results.

"Dictionary opened, Master Peter," said JARVIS. "May I inquire as to what you are doing?"

"No, you may not," Peter said, as politely as possible as his fingers flew across the keyboard. A few minutes later he had managed to retype the entire page, huffing out a sharp breath as the translation caught up with him.

"_In order to build a better world, we must first tear the old one down," _ the text began. "_And any person who does not comply, must then be destroyed."_

"Oh my God," Peter breathed as he continued to read what was essentially a mini history lesson on the evolution of HYDRA, from its beginnings centuries ago as a religious cult, worshipping something or someone called Hive, through its conversion to the draconian anti-freedom principles that were influenced by Johann Schmidt and continued on by Arnim Zola after Schmidt was defeated by Papa.

The document continued on for several pages, spouting more nonsense about HYDRA's philosophy of total world order through what basically amounted to controlled chaos, the same type of rhetoric that Dad, Papa, Uncle Sam, and Auntie Nat had found hidden in the old SHIELD bunker up at Camp Lehigh that had housed Zola's consciousness.

"These people are just _bonkers!"_ Peter said as he quickly saved the document to the new laptop and selected the next file on the list, breathing in a deep breath as he allowed his eyes to relax. Once again, the encoded text of the file morphed into actual legible words, with Peter's fingers flying so fast over his keyboard that he had to be careful not to press down too hard and break it.

As soon as he was done, Peter dropped his head, rubbing at his tight neck muscles as JARVIS translated the text. Unfortunately, the file turned out to be nothing more than a supply list for one of the HYDRA bases in Iceland that was abandoned before the team got there in the fall.

Peter decided to save it anyway, just in case, and had just clicked on the next file when he heard Papa's heavy footsteps in the hallway, heading towards his room. He quickly closed both laptop screens, grabbing his tablet just as Papa knocked on his slightly opened door.

"Are you too busy to come help me with dinner, little guy?" Papa asked.

"Ah, nope, not too busy," Peter answered as he slid on his glasses, rubbing at his temples as he hefted himself off the bed, trying to fight off the slight headache behind his eyes.

"What were you working on?" asked Papa as he set Peter to chopping garlic bulbs and scallions for one of the Italian dishes he liked to make for Dad. Ever since he'd told his dads about the senate bill, Peter had noticed that Papa had been cooking almost all Italian dishes for dinner, almost as though he was afraid that he wouldn't get to for too much longer.

Which only made Peter even more determined to get to the bottom of what was going on. If he could somehow keep his family from being torn apart and help them actually catch all the bad guys, then he was going to do it.

And if it happened to help prove to them that he could be a more than capable addition to the Avengers at the same time, well, that was just icing on the cake.

"Oh, just some school stuff, nothing too exciting," Peter said, keeping his eyes trained on his cutting board so Papa couldn't see them.

_And really, supply lists and deranged philosophies about world domination aren't really all that exciting, when it comes down to it._

"Oh," Papa said as he poured some dry linguine noodles into the pan of boiling water on the stove and started shredding a massive block of mozzarella cheese. "Well, make sure and let me know if you need any help with your History tonight, okay?"

"I will, Papa, don't worry," Peter said softly, blinking back the tears threatening to drop. He sniffed, swiping at his nose as he snuck a glance at his beloved papa, trying everything in his power to not think about the possibility of never seeing him again, and only thinking about nothing else.

"I'm not gonna let it happen," he murmured under his breath, a bit too loudly when Papa turned towards him, one eyebrow raised in question.

"Peter? Did you say something?"

"Nothing important," Peter said with a quick shake of his head. "Just reciting some trivia stuff that we worked on the other day for Decathlon. One of the questions I got was about Admiral Nimitz."

"Ah, yeah, he was a pretty brave fellow," said Papa. "Always putting his men first and never afraid to stand up to Washington when he thought they were wrong. I wasn't too involved with the Naval side of things during the war, but even our relatively small Army unit got the occasional word of what he was up to."

"Yeah, I remember you telling me some stuff when we were still studying World War II," Peter said. "He seems like he was a pretty cool guy."

"That he was, little guy," said Papa. He reached over, giving Peter's hair a quick ruffle before turning to the cabinets, rummaging around for a baking dish.

_There are times when a higher level of courage, or valor, is required to accomplish an impossible task. Most people do not have this ability to muster this type of courage. It is rare, and so it is uncommon._

That had been the rest of Admiral Nimitz's famous quote, which Peter had felt compelled to look up the day after that seemingly random trivia question, and now couldn't get out of his mind because of how well it seemed to describe his family's current situation.

A situation he was not going to just sit by and allow to happen just because his dads still thought he was only a kid.

_A higher level of courage to accomplish an impossible task,_ Peter thought, pursing his lips as he finished chopping up the final bulb of garlic. _And most people don't have the ability to muster it._

_But I do._

_And I will._

* * *

_**I can't wait to see what you think! Please don't forget to drop me a review! :)**_


	14. Chapter 14

"_Senator, while I understand that this has likely been already covered, I would very much appreciate it if you could indulge me again," _said one of the senators from Tennessee, a petite black woman who was serving her second term. "_Can you please explain exactly why there is a need for this… registration act?"_

"Okay, so she's probably not one of them," Steve murmured as he wrote down the lady's name and what state she represented in his notebook. He had already been watching the debate for over three hours, pretty much ever since he and Tony had dropped Peter off at school, taking detailed notes as he tried to determine exactly how many of the senators were hooked in with HYDRA and who they all were.

It was always good to know exactly who you were up against, and Steve wanted to collect as much data as he could before he finalised his plans, even if all of the garbage spewing from the mouths of the pro-registration senators had almost made him angry enough to punch through the living room wall more than once.

But since he didn't really feel like having to patch up yet another hole in the penthouse, he had managed, at least so far, to control his temper.

"Babe, really?" Tony suddenly said from the far corner of the living room, startling Steve enough that he almost dropped his pencil. "Why the hell are you still watching that, you know it's only gonna piss you off?"

"We need to know what we're up against, Tony, you know that," he answered, gripping his pencil as he frowned at the television. "And I'm tired of always being three steps behind the enemy. It's time that I quit slacking."

"Yeah, 'cause you certainly spend most of your time slacking," Tony muttered, rolling his eyes as he stopped next to him. He wrapped his arms around Steve's waist, tipping his forehead against his arm. "Didn't we just talk about you putting too much pressure on yourself? Or was that just me talking to myself again the other night?"

"Yes we did, but I also said that no pressure is too much when it comes to you and Peter," Steve said with a frown. He planted a quick kiss on Tony's head before returning his attention to the screen, hoping Tony would get the hint and drop the subject. He really wasn't in the mood to rehash their entire argument, especially since he knew they would just end up going round and round again and wouldn't actually get anywhere.

Besides, Steve had already made up his mind, and already discussed it individually with Bucky, Thor, and Bruce, and the rest of the team as a group. At the moment his plan was that if something were to happen to him, Thor would immediately find Peter and transport him to Asgard, leaving him in the protection of his guardian Heimdall before returning for Tony. Once Peter and Tony were both safe, Thor would then return to the Tower or Compound and assess the situation, continuing to evacuate the non-enhanced team members if he thought it viable while Bucky and Bruce/ Hulk attempted to hold off any potential opposition. Once everyone was sequestered on Asgard, they would then monitor what was going on on Earth via Heimdall and formulate additional plans from there.

And under no circumstances was anyone to allow Tony or Peter to return to Earth until their safety could be guaranteed, both publicly via a press conference or something similar, and in writing. Long gone were the days of simple handshake promises or giving someone "your word", yet another thing that Steve sometimes lamented about the twenty-first century.

Tony let out an exaggerated sigh, but thankfully didn't press the issue. Instead, he released Steve and plunked down onto the couch, patting the cushion next to him.

"At least come and sit down then, yeah?" he said. "You've been pacing back and forth so much I'm surprised there's not already a path worn into the floor."

"All right." Steve watched as Senator Davis approached the podium, assuming his arrogant-as-hell expression that Steve had already grown to despise.

"_Very well, Madame Senator," _Davis began, clearing his throat.

"_In the years since the formation of the so-called superhero team known as the Avengers, there has been an increase in not only the number of known enhanced individuals, but also an equally commensurate increase in the number of what many would term as 'Avengers' level threats'. In fact, research conducted by various committee members and other groups has shown that since the discovery of Captain Steve Rogers in the Arctic ice, the man many of you know as Captain America, there has been a sort of ripple effect with these events, and one that I feel, as do many of my colleagues, that we can no longer ignore."_

The Tennessee senator frowned as she leaned over to listen to her aide, whispering something that Steve couldn't catch.

"_Could you be more specific about this 'ripple effect', Senator?"_ she asked.

"_Of course, Senator," _said Davis. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, peering at the sheet of paper in front of him.

"_Ever since Captain Rogers was defrosted and reintroduced into public society, there has been an increase in the number of potential world-ending events. Now, as he happened to state in our recent hearing, Captain Rogers believes that the Avengers are the best equipped to handle these particular events, and while he may in fact be correct, I personally find it rather interesting that these events only began to occur after he was found. Now, while I agree that this may simply be a vast coincidence, it is a bit difficult to look past all of the evidence, past all of the casualties and destruction and damage, especially when Captain Rogers himself seems to not care at all about what's left behind in the wake of these events, and has stated for the record that he would not hesitate to utilise not only the combined strength of the entire Avengers' team, but also the large robotic army created by his… companion, Mr Tony Stark, whenever he personally sees the need. Now, I'm not sure about the rest of you, but having one person, and not even a so-called normal person but one that's in fact enhanced, sitting on that kind of power and operating under absolutely no regulations or oversight, well, to be perfectly frank, it frightens me."_

Davis paused for a moment, presumably for dramatic effect. "_And I believe, Senators, that we must examine all of this evidence with not only a critical eye, but also an objective eye. For while it may be difficult for some to believe that Captain America may not in fact have the best interests of the United States at heart, right now it seems as though that is exactly what's happening. The perspective that Captain Rogers and his team are specifically inviting these catastrophic challenges to both show off their strength and firepower to the world and stoke their own egos should not simply be dismissed out of hand."_

A loud _snap!_ startled Steve, and he looked down at his right hand to find that he had broken his pencil into about five different pieces, all clutched so tightly in his white-knuckled fist that bits of the wood and lead had already embedded themselves into his skin. Slowly, he uncurled his fist, allowing the broken pencil shards to fall to the floor as Tony quietly asked JARVIS to mute the television.

Steve didn't know what was worse: the fact that someone who didn't even know him was so harshly judging not only his intentions but also his integrity, or that at least a third to a half of the other senators seemed to be agreeing with Davis's remarks.

All he'd ever wanted to do was serve his country, the very same country his own father had given his life for, and protect his family that he loved more than his own life. Almost every single decision that he'd made since he had turned eighteen years old had been toward one or both of those ends, so how could Davis not see that?

How could _anyone _not see that?

"Babe?" Tony murmured, gently tugging on his arm. "C'mon, let's go for a walk or something, yeah?"

Sucking in a slow, deep breath, Steve picked a yellow splinter of pencil out of his palm before nodding, carefully closing his notebook.

"Yeah, okay," he whispered. "Just… need to get my shoes on."

Outside it was bright and sunny, the vast city filled with all of the sounds and smells of early spring, such a sharp contrast to the violent thunderstorm raging inside Steve's mind and heart. He offered Tony his arm as they stepped onto the sidewalk at the foot of the Tower, absentmindedly heading up the street in the direction of Peter's school.

"You know Davis is just a first-class asshole, babe," Tony said after they had walked in silence for almost three blocks, his hand tucked securely into the crook of Steve's elbow. Tony's brown eyes were hidden behind one of his many pairs of sunglasses, but Steve didn't need to see them to know how much hurt they were carrying. Like Steve, Tony always took any jab at his loved ones very personally, and Davis's remarks about him had been about as low as Steve had ever heard.

"I know," Steve answered. He rubbed at his aching jaw with his free hand, surprised that he still had all of his teeth for how tightly it was clenched. "But I'm not sure that'll matter all that much if he's able to convince all of the others to go along with him."

Tony just pursed his lips as they crossed another street, leading Steve inside a coffee shop.

"Two large peppermint teas and a chocolate croissant, please," Tony said to the young lady at the counter, who immediately started gushing as she recognised them. Tony smiled as she fumbled with his change, giving her a twenty dollar tip as she handed them their drinks, the clean, pungent smell of the peppermint already working to soothe Steve's frayed nerves. Peppermint had been banned from the Tower and Compound because of how dangerous it was for Peter, so Steve took full advantage of any opportunity that he had to enjoy a cup of his favourite tea without it posing a threat to their son.

They took seats over by the window, leisurely sipping their hot drinks as they watched the various people walking by outside. People-watching had always been fascinating to Steve, and he'd been known to sit inside shops or outside on park benches for hours when Tony was busy in the lab or at a meeting, just observing humanity and occasionally sketching in his sketchbook.

He had already finished half of his tea by the time Tony reached for his hand, his long, calloused fingers warm as they curled around his own.

"I think I've got the MAUDE glasses just about ready," he said. "I've had JARVIS running every single simulation that I can think of for the past three days, so as long as you and Bucky are still good to go, then—"

"I'll double-check with him tonight." Steve glanced down at his untouched croissant, finally giving into his growling stomach and tearing off a large piece. "I can't imagine that he's changed his mind though."

"No, not likely, but it's always good to make sure," agreed Tony. "But what we really need to discuss is if we're gonna let Pete watch the experiment. I mean, obviously we'd have to make sure he couldn't hear the trigger words, but you know he's gonna want to watch it."

Steve dropped his chin to his chest, his fingers tightening around Tony's. "I'd really rather that he didn't, especially if something were to go wrong. But I'm not sure that I'm up for fighting with him over it either. He's been so distant lately, and I just…"

His voice trailed off, unable to bring himself to finish his sentence. _I just don't want him to start hating me if we don't have that much time left together._

"Well, I know that _I'm _not really up for it," Tony said casually, as if they hadn't just recently listened to a government official try and smear Steve and the Avengers across the entire United States Senate. Steve felt his jaw tightening again, and he took another sip of his tea, trying to force himself to calm down. Tony wasn't trying to minimise or ignore what was happening, he was just compartmentalising it.

And while Steve sometimes envied Tony's ability to compartmentalise everything so well, as soon as he remembered exactly _why _Tony had been forced to learn how to do it, he just got angry again.

"I think we should ask Bucky, see what he says," Steve finally said. "He may not want the entire team watching while we try and trigger him, so… if he says no, then we'll just tell Peter no."

Tony gave a nod before taking another sip of his tea. "Great idea, babe."

"I'll talk to him after dinner tonight, okay?" said Steve. "Are you thinking sometime this weekend for the experiment?"

"Yep," answered Tony as he stole a small piece of the croissant, winking as he popped it into his mouth. "Bruce and Sam said they'll have the panic room prepped and ready by Saturday morning, so…"

"All right. And the contingency plans?"

"Code green for containment, and Helen's developed a sedative she says should be able to knock him out as long as we can get it into a large vein right away," said Tony. "And Nat's already volunteered to take care of it if it comes to that."

Steve bit his lip. He didn't like the idea of Natasha risking her life that way, but he also knew she was the best person for the job since she had experience with that type of thing.

"All right," he said softly, squeezing Tony's hand. "Thank you, sweetheart. I'm sure Bucky's already told you this too, but I can't tell you how much I appreciate all the work you've put into this."

Tony gave him a shrug, one of those nonchalant shrugs he often gave whenever Steve gave him a compliment. "It's for Pete too, babe, so don't be trying to give me more credit than I deserve."

"And you need to stop downplaying it all the time!" Steve snapped, a bit too forcefully when Tony's head jerked back in surprise. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that, but please, don't do that, okay? Don't always try and deflect it away when I give you a compliment. Please?" He brought Tony's hand to his lips, kissing his knuckles. "I love you, and I'm so grateful for you and for everything that you do, and I don't only mean the glasses. I mean everything that you do for me, and for Peter, and for the rest of the team. We wouldn't be half as good at what we do if it wasn't for you, and that is a fact."

"Steve—" Tony started, his eyebrows knitting together, but Steve cut him off.

"No, please don't," he whispered. He breathed in, pressing his lips to Tony's hand again as tears stung his eyes. "Just let me appreciate you."

"Steve, I don't need you tell me that you appreciate me," Tony said after a short pause. "It's pretty much written all over your face everytime you look at me."

"Well, that's good, but I'm still gonna tell you anyway, all right?" Steve said with a slight smile. "I thought you would've figured that out by now."

Tony gave another shrug. "Well, you know me, honey."

_Yes, I do,_ Steve thought. _Just like I should._

He had just finished the last of his tea when the door to the coffee shop opened and George Stacy and another police officer stepped inside. Steve instinctively shrank back, trying to avoid eye contact but Stacy noticed them right away, a wide smile stretching across his face as he waved hello.

"Good day, Captain Rogers, Mr Stark," Stacy said as he stepped over to their table. Steve reluctantly got to his feet, shaking Stacy's outstretched hand.

"Mr Stacy, it's nice to see you again," Steve said as he unconsciously reached for Tony's arm, fighting the urge to step in front of him. George Stacy was a police officer, not a government official, and ever since the theatre incident Steve had had no real reason to view him as a threat, but that damn senate hearing had gotten him so twitchy, as Peter would say, that he was even more paranoid than usual.

"So, my daughter mentioned something about the Decathlon team being invited to stay in the Stark Industries building down in D.C. during their big competition?" Stacy asked.

"Oh, yeah," said Tony. "Since it's only a couple blocks away from the school hosting the competition, I just thought it'd be easier than trying to cram everyone into a hotel."

_And much safer, _Steve thought, since Tony had recently outfitted the entire building with their defence drones, complete with a long enough range to target the competition site if necessary. That plus the fact that all of their teammates were also planning to attend the competition were the only reasons why Steve was able to be so calm about it. After the committee meeting, Steve was not at all looking forward to returning to Washington D.C.

"Well, that's very generous of you, Mr Stark," added Stacy. "I know we're all looking forward to it, and Gwen especially."

"Yeah, call me Tony," said Tony. "And from what Pete's told us, with how hard Miss Stacy's been drilling them, I doubt there's any way they can lose."

Steve watched as Stacy's already ruddy cheeks flushed even deeper. "Yes, well, she's definitely competitive, and has been ever since she was a baby. But from what she's told me, your boy is just as much, if not more so."

"Yes, that seems to be a common trait among geniuses. Or at least among the geniuses that I know," Steve said, curling his arm around Tony's shoulders. "It was nice to see you again, Mr Stacy, I hope you have a nice rest of your day."

He had taken only one step towards the door when he felt Stacy's hand on his arm.

"Captain, Mr Stark," he said, glancing furtively at his partner who was still waiting for their order. "Gwen told me what's been going on, and I've been following along with some of the senate debates. I just wanted you to know that my family is here if you ever need anything. Even if it's just to pick Peter up from school, all you need to do is ask."

Tony gave an almost imperceptible flinch, prompting Steve to squeeze his shoulder. "Thank you, Mr Stacy," he said in his Captain's voice. "We appreciate that very much."

"It's the least I can do," Stacy said. He stepped back as his partner approached, juggling two big coffee cups and a loaded paper sack in his hands.

"Hey, did anyone ever tell you that you look a lot like Captain America?" the young man asked, who barely looked old enough to drive, much less be a police officer. He gasped as he stepped back, looking between Steve and Tony. "Oh my God, you really _are _Captain America! And Iron Man too? Oh wow, my girlfriend's never gonna believe this!"

"Brian, this is Captain Steve Rogers and Mr Tony Stark," said Stacy, taking his coffee cup before it could drop onto the floor. "My daughter is in their son's class at school."

"It's nice to meet you, officer," Steve said as Brian first clasped his hand, then Tony's, shaking them both vigorously. "Thank you for all that you do to keep the city a safe place."

"Oh, like you never do any of that! I'm just a beat cop, but you guys… you're the real deal!" the young officer said, clearing his throat as he glanced over at Stacy. "Anyway, it was so awesome to meet you both!"

"Yes, well, we need to be heading back to the precinct now," Stacy said firmly, shooting Steve a rather apologetic look. "Have a nice day, Captain, Mr Stark."

"Thank you." Steve waited until Stacy and his young partner had crossed the street before he and Tony exited the coffee shop, heading back towards the Tower.

"Do you believe him?" Tony asked after a couple of blocks. "Stacy?"

Steve gave a sigh; he'd been hoping Tony wouldn't ask that. "I'd like to. He seems sincere enough, and if he really thought that Peter was Spider-Man he could've arrested him or even gone to the press right after the attack at the theatre, but—"

"You're not sure if we can really trust anyone in a law enforcement position right now," Tony finished. "Right?"

"Yeah."

"Well, can't say that I blame ya," said Tony. "But if he is telling the truth, it can't hurt to have the support. I know he's not exactly the mayor or anything, but he does run one of the largest police precincts in the city."

"Then I guess it's good that his daughter likes Peter so much," Steve said.

"Yeah, like she even had a choice," Tony said with a rather cheeky smirk. "I mean, you didn't, did ya?"

"No, not with either of you." A knot rose in Steve's throat at the memory of the first time he laid eyes on Tony and Peter, sitting there in the middle of that endless desert, the horrible blue colour of Peter's split and cracked lips as he lay completely motionless in Tony's arms, and the heart-stopping panic on Tony's face as he begged Steve to do something, _anything_ to save him.

It was an image that still haunted his nightmares, even now, almost four years later.

"Babe?" Tony said, tugging on Steve's arm. "You okay?"

"Yeah, sweetheart, I'm fine," he murmured. Tony shot him one of Peter's _yeah, right_ looks, but thankfully didn't press him.

The television was still on in the living room when they got home, a sharp slap in the face compared to the last couple hours of relative peace that he and Tony had just shared. Steve's heart skittered as he turned his back to the screen, winding his arms around Tony's shoulders and pulling him into a tight hug.

"I love you so much," he murmured into Tony's hair. "And thank you. I needed that."

"Yeah, no shit," Tony muttered. He cupped Steve's jaw, pressing a slow kiss to that sweet spot that always turned Steve's knees to jelly. "Can you do me a favour, though?"

"What's that?" Steve rasped, biting his lip as Tony kissed that spot again.

"Don't listen to anymore of that bullshit? It's just gonna make you mad, honey, and it probably won't matter in the end anyway. I'd rather you go down to the gym and bust up your knuckles again than listen to those idiots blathering on all afternoon. JARVIS will let us know if anything important comes up, you know that."

Steve squeezed his eyes closed, breathing in the glorious scent of Tony's hair as he struggled to come up with a plausible excuse, and found nothing.

"All right." He tilted Tony's chin up to kiss his lips, his breath hitching when Tony quickly deepened the kiss, his hand curling around the back of Steve's neck to hold him in place as his tongue plundered his mouth, searching for his own. Steve could taste the faint traces of peppermint and chocolate on Tony's tongue, and he quickly lost himself in the touch, taste, and feel of his husband as Tony's other hand slid down to his ass and squeezed.

"There," Tony said cheekily once they finally broke apart, flushed and panting. "See what you get when you listen to me?"

A low growl escaped Steve's throat as he dipped his head to kiss Tony again, deliberately keeping it chaste even though his entire body was screaming at him to take it further. "You are incorrigible, you know."

"Yeah, but you love me anyway," Tony said with a wink as he gave Steve's ass another firm squeeze. "But if you promise to keep behaving, there'll be more where that came from later tonight."

"Promise?" Steve whimpered, sucking in a shaky breath.

Tony gave him a downright wicked grin, waggling his eyebrows. "You know it, babe."

Gulping, Steve nodded, pressing another kiss to Tony's forehead. "JARVIS, can you please turn off the television?"

"Of course, Captain."

"Good boy," Tony murmured. "Now, we've got a little over two hours before we need to go get Pete, so go on and get all hot and sweaty while I go and daydream about getting you all hot and sweaty. Okay, _Captain?_"

"Yes, sir," Steve breathed, his cheeks flaming hot as Tony sauntered back towards his lab, all perfectly mussed brown hair, back as straight as a ballet dancer, lean, toned limbs, and the most beautifully round ass that Steve had ever seen.

God, Steve was a lucky man.

He just hoped that his luck wasn't about to run out.

* * *

Peter groaned as he rubbed at his aching neck, his eyes burning from spending the last three hours trying to decode the wonky Russian HYDRA files. It was already after four in the morning, and he knew he should probably try and get at least a bit of sleep before he was supposed to get up for school, but his progress so far had been so annoyingly slow that he didn't want to give up until he actually found something of value.

"Just one more," Peter muttered as he selected another file, this one a bit larger than the two previous ones he had decoded earlier that night. After that first initial evening, Peter had decided that it was too dangerous to work on the files while his dads were still awake, so for the past three nights he had been going to sleep at his usual bedtime, then setting an alarm to wake him up at 1am and working for as long as he was able to keep his eyes open.

But so far it had all just seemed like a massive waste of time, since besides HYDRA's manifesto, all he'd been able to uncover had been nothing but a bunch of supply lists and personnel shift assignments.

Whoever it was that had kept HYDRA's records at that Mongolian base had apparently written down freaking everything _except_ what he wanted to find, and Peter's patience was rapidly approaching its breaking point.

Reaching for his water bottle, Peter chugged over half of it in just a few seconds, wiping his sleeve across his chin before tapping open the next file. He breathed in, letting it slowly out as he allowed his eyes to relax into their unfocused state so he could decipher the text.

Twenty minutes later, Peter curled his frozen hands into fists and grabbed his glasses, sliding them on so he could read what he had just finished typing out.

"_Subjects were selected from various science divisions within SHIELD, based on initial responses to treatment and willingness to cooperate with further testing. Incremental doses of CTX-616 were given at regular intervals to ensure compliance."_

"They were experimenting with that drug," Peter said, grabbing his polar bear and stuffing him under his chin. He let out a hard shudder as memories from the Miami bunker flooded his mind, of him lying there, strapped to a freezing cold concrete slab as the Aminacin burned through his veins like molten lava, while he bit through his bottom lip to keep from screaming from the almost unbearable pain.

And that had been _before_ they'd pulled out Loki's sceptre and tried to turn his brain into scrambled eggs.

It had only been a few weeks that he'd even been able to recall those memories, the coma he had been in for months following the Miami battle having repressed them so deeply that it'd taken until now for them to reemerge.

Or at least, that was Uncle Sam's theory about it. Peter had yet to tell his dads that he was starting to remember more of what had happened down in Miami, and Uncle Sam had promised to keep it a secret unless he decided that it was doing Peter harm to do so. Dad and Papa didn't need anymore reasons to worry about him, they already had enough of their own.

The file went on to discuss the death of at least twenty of the test subjects during the dose-titration experiments, since apparently non-enhanced people couldn't tolerate the higher doses that Peter and Papa received. Even Dad, who had been given the drug too, had apparently gotten a much smaller dose since they were afraid that too much of it would kill him.

"So nice of them, since it almost did anyway," Peter grumbled as he continued to scroll through the file, physically forcing his eyelids to stay open.

"_Subject 114, successful demonstration of cryokinetic abilities in-laboratory. Doctor List recommends field test at new Avengers' facility to determine viability."_

"New Avengers' facility? That must've meant the Compound!" Peter exclaimed, clapping his hand over his mouth a second later. He had already deactivated JARVIS for the night, not wanting to be bugged every three minutes about why he was still awake, but the last thing he wanted was to possibly wake up Papa, who Peter knew had not been sleeping well lately.

"That must've been the guy that caused the lake to freeze over last summer." Peter rubbed at his eyes behind his glasses, his heart thudding as the file went on to comment that while the cryokinesis test was moderately successful, the subject himself didn't survive the attempt.

"_Subject 128 with a successful in-lab demonstration of hydrokinesis. However, subject terminated following failed attempt to capture one Peter Stark-Rogers."_

"Oh my God!" Peter breathed into his polar bear's neck, his belly swooping at finding his own name spelled out in a HYDRA document. "They really were trying to get me?"

_But… why? What's so special about me?_

There were several other subject numbers mentioned in the file, all listed with various matter-manipulating abilities and all who were then terminated for various reasons, including Subject 141 who had demonstrated the ability to control fire, but who also ended up failing to capture Peter Stark-Rogers.

"That must've been at the theatre," Peter mumbled, his heart thudding madly. He shivered, burrowing down even further into his blankets as he kept reading, trying to figure out why in the hell HYDRA was sending all these semi-enhanced people specifically after him.

It just didn't make sense, or at least it wasn't making too much sense at four in the morning when he was drop-dead exhausted. Peter was enhanced, that much was true, but it wasn't like he was the only enhanced person out there. Papa, Uncle Bruce, Uncle Thor, and Uncle Bucky were also inherently enhanced, meaning that their abilities didn't depend on specialised equipment like Dad and the rest of their family members. But why was Peter being singled out as the target for all of these experimentally enhanced people? Why not Papa, who the senate was personally targeting with their smear campaign, or even Uncle Bucky, who had already been caught in HYDRA's clutches once before and who was also still sensitive to the trigger words?

It wasn't until Peter had reached the last few paragraphs of the file that he got his answer.

"_Subjects 155 and 156 have successfully completed all trials and have demonstrated extraordinary abilities on multiple occasions, perhaps due to innate genetic enhancements present at birth as well as sibling relationship. Will hold in reserve while strategic plans move forward in the United States, and will continue to search for others._

"That's it!" Peter said, his horror briefly tempered by his excitement at finally figuring it out. He tapped his tablet screen, highlighting the line he'd just read.

"_Innate genetic enhancements present at birth."_

_That_ was the difference between he and Papa and every other enhanced person on their team. Aside from Uncle Thor, Peter was the only enhanced person that he knew of who hadn't received his powers as an adult, after the fact. And while Uncle Thor was a literal god—and likely not even HYDRA seemed to be up for targeting actual gods, especially if doing so would very likely piss off Uncle Thor's father and bring down the entire wrath of Asgard upon them—Peter could see how having soldiers who were genetically enhanced from birth, mutants, as it were, would be preferable to those they would have to artificially create.

"So, there's apparently two other people out there who were born with innate enhancements," Peter said. "Or, at least the potential for the development of them."

And, if there were two more people like Peter who HYDRA had already found, that meant there were likely even more who had yet to be found, which meant that there was quite possibly an entire subpopulation of people with similar mutations who were potentially in danger of becoming slaves for HYDRA. All HYDRA would need would be a big enough supply of that drug, and they could control just about anyone.

_Except for me,_ the little voice inside his head reminded him. _They weren't able to control me, even after using the sceptre._

Maybe that's why they were so determined to recapture him, to experiment on him to try and figure out how he had been able to resist their conversion procedures.

Peter buried his face into his polar bear, trying to ignore the fact that his glasses were pressing uncomfortably into the sides of his nose as he debated on what to do with this new information. If he showed it to his dads it would only make them even more determined to send him away, and that was the absolute last thing that he wanted. Like it or not, if things continued to progress the way that Papa feared they might, the team was going to need all the help they could get for the conflict that was sure to follow.

Or at least, the conflict that Peter hoped would follow. He couldn't imagine that the Avengers would just sit idly by and allow the registration act to become the law of the land, because to do so would go against everything that Papa had fought for during the war and everything the Avengers had stood for up till now.

Despite the fierce battles they had fought, the Avengers were overall a peacekeeping force, not a government-controlled enhanced army, and Peter knew Papa would never allow them to fall under any sort of government control.

And especially not a government filled to the brim with HYDRA.

No, Peter would have to sit on this for awhile longer, maybe just until Dad finished working on the MAUDE glasses. He really didn't like hiding things from his dads, it always made him feel so guilty that he could barely bring himself to look at them, but with how stressed they both were at the moment it would be better to wait at least until Uncle Bucky's test with the glasses was over, so both Dad and Papa could at least not be worried about that anymore.

Besides, if there really were other people out there like him, then he owed it to them to try and help.

"Won't be for too much longer," Peter muttered as he shut down his computers and stacked them on his bedside table along with his glasses. Dad had mentioned at dinner that the MAUDE glasses were just about ready, so as long as Uncle Bucky was still up for it, they were planning on running the experiment sometime during the upcoming weekend.

And if it worked, which it would, as Dad's stuff never didn't work, then Peter wanted his dads to be in as good of a mood as possible when he asked, _again,_ if he could do the experiment himself.

And _then,_ once he knew for sure that HYDRA no longer had any control over him, then he would show his dads what he'd found, and hopefully convince them once and for all that he was way too valuable to be sent away.

_Uncommon valor was a common virtue, _Peter thought as he closed his eyes, finally giving in to his exhaustion.

_And I've got to have it._

* * *

"JARVIS, do me a favour and run another quick diagnostic on the interface for me, yeah?" Tony asked as he tapped some final commands into his monitor. Through the Hulk-proofed windows of Bruce's panic room he could see Steve sitting next to Bucky on the bed, talking to him while Bruce finished attaching a series of sensors to his chest and temples, while Sam took his position over in the back corner. Clint, Natasha, and Thor were with him in the anteroom, standing off to the side of the monitors and ready with the emergency supply of Helen's super-sedative if things ended up going south.

"Diagnostic revealed no anomalies, sir," JARVIS said. "System is ready."

"Thanks, J," Tony murmured as Peter came up next to him, a pair of noise-cancelling headphones clutched in one hand and a pen in the other.

"Everything good?" Peter asked, eyeing the monitor. "I bet Uncle Bucky's anxious to get started."

"Just about, Pete." Tony tapped in some more commands as he glanced furtively at his son, who was flipping the pen around his thumb so fast that Tony could barely see it. "You sure that Bucky's the anxious one here, though?"

Peter shot him a glare in response, one that seemed a lot more ferocious than Tony thought necessary for just a simple jab.

In fact, now that Tony thought about it, Peter had been especially moody ever since he and Steve had gotten home from D.C. He had tried to brush most of it off as Peter just being upset about the whole registration act thing, but not even that was enough to explain all of it.

He had even been avoiding spending time in the lab with Tony lately, choosing to do all of his homework in his room and completely neglecting his chemistry experiments, which, if Tony didn't know any better, almost made it seem as though Peter couldn't even stand to be around him.

And according to Steve, it hadn't been any better with him.

"Just don't want anything bad to happen to Uncle Bucky, Dad," Peter said. "He's already been through enough crap for three lifetimes, don't you think?"

"Yes, which is why I've made triply sure that we're all good here," Tony said evenly. "It's not like I'm trying to hurt the guy, Pete. We're doing all this so we can help him."

Peter rolled his eyes. "I didn't say that you were trying to hurt him, did I?"

Tony huffed in frustration as he turned to face Peter, ducking down as he tried to make eye contact. "Yeah, well, first of all, I never said that you said anything like that. And secondly, you can drop this whole attitude thing that you've got going on right the hell now, or you can mosey right on back upstairs to your room, understand? I'm already edgy enough about this whole thing without adding all of your excess teenage grump."

Guilt flashed across Peter's huge brown eyes as they locked with Tony's, just for a second before flitting away again. He looked so exhausted that Tony was surprised he was still able to stand, with his cheeks even paler than usual and big purple circles under his eyes, and while Tony could understand being tired—neither he nor Steve had been sleeping well lately—this seemed like a lot more than simple school-induced stress and fatigue.

"Look, bud, I didn't mean to snap at you, okay?" Tony said gently. "I think we'll all feel a lot better once this is over."

"Uh huh," Peter muttered, his eyes trained on Tony's chest as he bit his bottom lip. "Sorry."

"Mmm." The fact that Peter couldn't even seem to look him in the eye just reinforced that something else was wrong, but unfortunately now was not the time to be delving any deeper into it.

"Everything ready out here?" Steve asked as he exited the panic room, stepping up between Peter and Tony. "Bucky says he's as ready as he'll ever be, so…"

"Yeah, I think we're good to go," Tony said as he finished inputting the final set of parameters for the projection. If everything went according to plan, once the glasses were able to form the connection with Bucky's hippocampus and the trigger words were spoken, whatever memory his mind recalled would then be outwardly projected inside the panic room for everyone to see, with Sam prepared to try and talk Bucky through it if it seemed like he was in danger of slipping away.

"All right then, little guy, headphones on," Steve said to Peter, placing a hand on his shoulder. As soon as the headphones were in place Steve turned to Tony, giving him a reassuring nod.

"It's gonna be okay, sweetheart."

"Yeah," Tony whispered, trying to smile. _I sure as hell hope so._

He cleared his throat as he activated the panic room microphone.

"All right Bucky, go ahead and put on the glasses, and then just sit back and try and relax, all right?" They had decided a few days ago that Sam would be the one to verbalise the trigger words, thinking that he would be the person least likely to be viewed as a threat by the Winter Soldier.

Bucky gave a nod, sliding the glasses onto his face and leaning back against the pillows, his hands clasped tightly in his lap.

"I am ready, Тони," he said firmly.

Tony sucked in a deep breath, nodding at Steve over his shoulder.

"We're all set. JARVIS, go ahead and activate the interface."

A sort of bluish light swept across the lenses of the glasses as the interface connected, with Bucky immediately stiffening on the bed. Steve flinched, taking a step towards the door before Tony could grab onto his hand.

"It's okay, babe, that's supposed to happen," he said, trying to sound more reassuring than he felt. "The interface feels kinda weird at first if you're not used to it."

"You're sure?" Steve asked. "'Cause we can always try this some other time, and—"

"I'm ready!" Bucky said, his eyes wide behind the glasses and his fists tightly clenched. "Start now!"

Tony gulped as he checked the monitor. Bucky's heart rate and blood pressure were elevated but not dangerously so, and everything with the interface looked good.

"Pete?" Tony said, relieved when Peter didn't even glance in his direction, his gaze firmly trained on his Uncle Bucky through the window. "All right, Sam, go!"

"Longing," Sam said in a clear, firm voice, watching as Bucky's jaw twitched and his teeth clenched. "Rusted. Seventeen—"

"Stop," Bucky said as his spine went rigid, his head shaking frantically from side to side but his eyes still wide behind the glasses. "No, I don't wanna, please don't—!"

"Tony?" Sam called, his hands raised in question. "Should I—?"

Just then the glasses activated, projecting an image of a dark, dank, bunker-like building. Steve gasped as soon as he saw it, grabbing onto Tony's shoulder.

"That's the HYDRA bunker in Siberia where we found the Winter Soldier stasis pods! Sam, keep going, Bucky knew this might happen!"

Sam gave a reluctant nod, leaning forward in his chair. "Daybreak! Furnace!"

"Stop!" Bucky pleaded, his face as white as a sheet. "That's not me, I'm not—!"

"Tony!" called Sam as a man suddenly appeared in the image, dressed in the uniform of a Russian Army Colonel and holding a red-bound book embossed with a dark grey star. "Are you sure—?"

"This must've been what happened when he was taken out of stasis and given a new mission," Steve said, his Captain's voice wavering ever-so-slightly. He wrapped an arm around Peter's shoulders, tucking him close. "Sam, keep going, we're almost there!"

"I agree, Sam," Tony said, double-checking his readings. "Vitals are good here."

"Yeah, okay," Sam said as he got to his feet, stepping closer to the bed as an image appeared of Winter Soldier Bucky strapped to a metal chair, trembling in fear. Bucky jumped as he saw it, his head jerking back as though he'd been slapped as his Winter Soldier counterpart started to thrash against his restraints, begging the colonel to stop as he continued to advance towards him.

"Nine!" said Sam. Goosebumps pebbled down Tony's arms as he heard the word twice, in Russian from the colonel and from Sam in English.

"Oh God, Steve, I don't want Pete watching this," he said. "Don't let him watch it!"

"I've got his eyes covered, Tony," Steve said quickly. "Sam, keep going!"

"Benign! Homecoming!"

"No! Please, no!" Bucky cried as Sam grasped onto his right hand, not taking his eyes off Winter Soldier, who had almost managed to break through the restraints holding his metal left arm in place. Bruce was on his feet as well, standing by the back wall and looking like he was ready to pounce.

"One! Freight car!" finished Sam and the colonel. Both Bucky and Winter Soldier froze as soon as the final word left their mouths, and an eerie silence fell across the room as the colonel leaned closer to Winter Soldier, almost as though he was scanning him.

"Солдат?" asked the colonel.

"That means, 'soldier'," murmured Natasha.

"Солдат?" the colonel asked again. "Вы слышите меня?"

But instead of responding, Winter Soldier stayed quiet, gripping the arms of his chair as he stared straight ahead, his lips pursed so tightly they had almost disappeared. Tony's heart skipped a beat as Bucky sat straight up on the bed, still gripping Sam's hand, his chest heaving with every stuttered breath as he studied his alter-ego.

"Солдат?" the colonel asked again, obviously frustrated. "Ты соблюдаешь?"

"That means, 'do you comply?'" whispered Natasha.

"Нет," Winter Soldier said, so softly that Tony at first thought he had only imagined it. The colonel started, obviously shocked at hearing anything other than what he had expected.

"Солдат, ты соблюдаешь?" the colonel repeated.

Winter Soldier's eyes flicked up towards the colonel, his upper lip twitching into a defiant sneer as his metal fingers curled around the arm of the chair. "Нет," he said again. "Я не соблюдаю."

"Nat?" called Bruce. "Ah, is that a good thing?"

"He said, 'I do _not_ comply'," Natasha said with only barely tempered excitement. "Tony, I think it's working!"

"Copy that," Tony said, barely audible. He glanced back at Steve, still holding Peter in his arms with his eyes firmly trained on his friend through the window.

"C'mon, Bucky," he murmured. "C'mon, you can do this!"

"Что?" the colonel demanded. "Это ваша обязанность подчиняться!"

"'It is your duty to obey!'" Natasha said. "Steve, that guy sounds pretty shocked, I doubt this has ever happened before."

"Not likely," Steve agreed as he leaned over the microphone. "C'mon, Bucky, you're almost there!"

Just then the colonel grabbed Winter Soldier around his neck, slamming his head back against the hard metal of the chair. "Это ваша обязанность подчиняться, солдат!"

"Нет," said Bucky, not even blinking as he leaned closer. "Я решил не подчиняться."

"'I choose to _not_ obey'," Natasha said. "Tony—!"

"Нет," Winter Soldier repeated. "Я решил не подчиняться."

The loud groan of bending metal immediately followed Winter Soldier's words, and Tony jumped when not even a second later he had ripped the arm from his chair and slammed it right across the face of the Russian colonel, knocking him flat to the floor with a very undignified shriek. Spitting out a mouthful of blood, the colonel attempted to crawl away as Winter Soldier quickly freed the rest of his limbs, grabbing the colonel by the scruff of his neck and slamming him up against the wall.

"Нет!" Winter Soldier stated, his nostrils flaring dangerously as the colonel scrabbled at the metal fingers wrapped around his throat, crushing his windpipe. "Я решил не подчиняться!"

"Steve!" Tony yelped, his heart in his throat. "Steve, don't—!"

"It's all right, Tony, I've got his eyes covered!" Steve cut in. "It's gonna be okay!"

The sickening _crack_ of the colonel's neck breaking was almost enough to turn Tony's stomach, and he watched in half-horror, half-relief as Winter Soldier released his grip and stepped back, watching as the man who had tortured him and kept him prisoner crumpled into a heap onto the cold, grey floor.

Slowly, Winter Soldier turned to face Bucky, clicking his heels together and straightening his back as he regarded him.

"Сделано," he said with a single nod.

"'It is done'," whispered Natasha.

Bucky breathed in a long, shaky breath, his chin quivering as he nodded.

"Да. Сделано."

And then Winter Soldier turned on his heel and walked away, with the rest of the image dissolving into pixels as soon as he was out of sight. Silence fell across both the anteroom and inside the panic room, with nobody daring to move until Sam finally quirked an eyebrow in question.

"Ah, Tony?" he said, jerking his head towards Bucky, who was panting like he'd just run a marathon. "We good here now?"

Tony glanced back at Steve, his heart swelling at the look of pure elation in his glassy blue eyes. He still had Peter in his arms, tucked adorably against his chest with his fists clutching handfuls of Steve's shirt, just like he always did with Tony when he was a baby.

"Yeah," Tony murmured, slumping against the counter as he checked Bucky's vitals. "Yeah, I think we are."

_Holy shit, it actually worked!_

"Aw, yeah!" exclaimed Sam, playfully knocking Bucky on the shoulder. "See? I knew you could do it, man, I knew you could!"

A knot rose in Tony's throat as Bucky's piercing eyes locked with his through the window, with Bucky giving him an almost imperceptible nod.

A nod that clearly said, _thank you._

"You're welcome," Tony whispered, just as Steve's large hand curled around his shoulder, pulling him into an elated hug.

"Thank you, sweetheart," he murmured into Tony's ear. "Thank you so much!"

Tony breathed in against Steve's neck, trying to contain himself before poking his head back up to find Peter removing his headphones, a huge smile on his face.

"Dad, it worked! It really worked!" he exclaimed. "Uncle Bucky is free!"

"Sure seems that way, buddy," Tony answered. "Looks like we did okay."

"Yeah, just okay," Peter said, rather impishly. He paused for a moment, glancing up at Steve as he bit his bottom lip. "So, do you think that I'll be able to—?"

"We're not gonna decide that right now, little guy," Steve said firmly. "I think we should go and celebrate with some pizza first, and then we can think about when we'll talk about it. Okay?"

Peter's shoulders dropped as he frowned, rolling his eyes. "Oh, come on, really? We can _think_ about when we'll talk about it? That's just code for 'we'll see', which is just another way of saying 'no', isn't it?"

"No, it's code for 'your papa is hungry and wants to go and eat large quantities of pizza'," Tony retorted. "Which is exactly what we're gonna do!"

"I am all for the eating of large quantities of pizza," said Thor as he came up behind Peter, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "In fact, young Starkson, I do believe that you in fact challenged me to some sort of contest the last time we indulged in eating pizza together?"

"Oh yeah!" Peter said with a rather dopey grin. "It was gonna be me and Uncle Bucky against you and Papa, remember?"

"Hey, if we're doing some sort of pizza-eating contest then I wanna be in on it too!" protested Clint. "I know I'm not a goddamn god or anything, but I'm pretty sure I can hold my own when it comes to pizza!"

"Oh boy," muttered Tony. "Not exactly sure I'm up for watching that."

"Nah, I'm sure it'll be fun, sweetheart," Steve said. He shot Tony a wink as Bruce, Bucky, and Sam stepped out of the panic room, with Peter leaping into Bucky's arms as soon as he'd cleared the doorway.

"This is so awesome, Uncle Bucky, I'm so happy for you!"

"Thanks, Петр," Bucky said as he released Peter, ruffling his hair as Bruce handed Tony the MAUDE glasses. "I'm pretty happy too."

Next it was Steve's turn. "I'm so proud of you, Buck," he said, clapping him on the back. "That took a lot of guts."

"Yeah, well, I'm pretty sure he's got guts to spare," said Sam. "Now, did I hear someone say something about pizza?"

"Yeah, you just might've," Steve said with a grin. "You guys hungry?"

"Aren't I always?" said Sam as Bucky ruffled Peter's hair. "Let's go!"

"We'll meet you all down in the lobby," Steve said.

Tony stepped back, carefully placing the glasses in their case while the rest of the team filtered out towards the elevator, with Peter sandwiched between Bucky and Thor and laughing at something that Thor just said.

"Sweetheart?" Steve suddenly said from behind him, curling an arm around his waist. "Are you okay?"

Instinctively, Tony leaned his head back against Steve's collarbone, feeling the tense muscles across his shoulders relax at his touch.

"Yeah, babe, just relieved." He turned the glasses case over in his hand. "If it hadn't've worked, and Pete would've had to see Bucky… well… let's just say that I'm _really_ glad that it did."

"Me too, mo grá, me too," Steve said as he kissed the top of Tony's head. "And I know Bucky's relieved as well. He would hate for Peter to have to see him as anything other than his true self."

Tony nodded as Steve took his hand, heading towards their penthouse elevator.

"We're gonna have to decide about Pete now, you know," Tony said. "He's not gonna give us a moment's peace until we do."

"I know." Steve let out a heavy sigh as the doors opened into their living room, turning to Tony as soon as they stepped out. "And as much as I wish that we could tell him no, I just—"

"But we can't," Tony interrupted. He swallowed hard, glancing down at the glasses still in his hand. "Now that we know it works, we just can't." He didn't add that he was even more afraid of what HYDRA would do to Peter if they ever managed to get their hands on him again than he was of Peter using the glasses. It wasn't something that he felt like saying out loud, and knowing Steve, he was probably already thinking the exact same thing.

Steve cupped Tony's cheek, pressing their foreheads together. "No, we can't, sweetheart, but we don't have to worry about it right this second either. Let's just try and enjoy this a bit first, okay?"

"Yeah, okay," Tony whispered. He pressed a soft kiss to Steve's lips, tilting his head as he smirked. "But I'm not exactly sure how watching all you guys stuff your faces full of pizza is supposed to be enjoyable."

"Well, not sure if I can help too much with that one," Steve said with a grin. He took the glasses from Tony's hand, placing them gently on the coffee table and offered Tony his arm. "Shall we?"

With a semi-contented smile, Tony took his husband's arm. As much as he often liked to tease Steve about his 1940's chivalrous behaviour, most of the time he secretly loved it. Just another way that Steve always made him feel cherished.

"Yeah, babe. We shall."

* * *

Steve's mouth was dry, his heart thudding madly against his ribcage as he watched the Senate vote unfold on their bedroom television screen. Next to him sat Tony, his calloused fingers wrapped around Steve's bare bicep, still a bit bleary-eyed from being woken up by JARVIS when the vote was announced. Steve had tried to insist on watching the vote in the living room so Tony could sleep, only to be met by one of Peter's _duh_ looks, so there they sat, watching as the various senators inputted their votes on the bill containing the Superhero Registration Act.

_Yea, _Steve thought, his eyes narrowing slightly as he burned the image of the offending senator—a woman from Pennsylvania—into his memory. So far the tally was 17 Yea and 17 Nay, with two senators who were believed to be abstaining.

Steve drummed his fingers on his knee as the the voting continued. Nay. Nay, that was nineteen total. Yea. Yea. Yea, now they were ahead again. His belly swooped as two more senators voted Yea, making it five in a row.

_Minnesota. Ohio. California. Nevada. Delaware._

All likely members of HYDRA.

And the fact that they were holding the vote at four in the morning only added more fuel to Steve's suspicions.

Another Nay vote, by a lady from Virginia, followed by another by a man from Oregon.

It was still neck in neck.

_Do these people even understand what they're voting for?_ he thought. _Do they actually understand what's at stake?_

Somehow, Steve doubted it. As he had told Senator Davis at the hearing, no one else could possibly understand Steve's perspective of crashing into the ice having recently witnessed the Nazi's rise to power, and being able to immediately recognise the exact pending signs almost as soon as he was defrosted.

"Steve," Tony suddenly said, tugging gently on his arm. Steve gulped as he leaned forward, his eyes going wide as no fewer than seven senators in a row proceeded to vote Nay.

"How—how many are left?" he stammered past his dry throat, his mind spinning way too fast to do the math.

"Just three," answered Tony, his fingertips digging into Steve's flesh. "Honey—"

Steve held his breath as the final senator submitted her vote. Nay, bringing the total to—

"That's forty-eight for, and fifty against, honey," Tony said quietly, his voice quivering. "It didn't pass."

_It didn't pass._

Steve was _stunned._ In all of his wildest dreams, he'd never actually thought it was possible that the bill might not pass. A high-pitched squeak worked its way from his throat as he attempted to swallow, his disbelieving eyes still staring at the television.

Yea: 48, Nay: 50.

_It didn't pass._

"It—it didn't—it didn't pass," he murmured, cupping Tony's cheeks with trembling hands. "Tony—it didn't—"

Tony's beautiful brown eyes were shimmering with unshed tears as he shook his head. "Nope," he said. "It didn't pass."

"Oh my God," Steve breathed. He blinked as he read across the numbers again. And again. And again.

Yea: 48, Nay: 50.

_It didn't pass._

"So… uh… what exactly does that mean? I mean, what happens next? There's no way that HYDRA's gonna let this go, but—"

"Babe," Tony said gently, brushing his fingers across Steve's lips. His chest was heaving, and there were beads of sweat sprinkled around his hairline. He had been just as nervous as Steve, but as usual had been trying to hide it. "Honey, let's not worry about that now, yeah? It's four in the morning. We gotta take Pete to school in a few hours."

Steve nodded, breathing in a long, shaky breath. Tony was absolutely right. It _was _the middle of the night, and they did need to take Peter to school in a few hours.

"Yeah. You're right."

_But… it was so close! Just a couple more votes tipped in the other direction, and—_

And he'd be packing Tony and Peter off to Asgard, instead of sitting on their bed trying to stop shaking.

"Tony—"

"No," Tony said, cutting him off with a firm kiss. "Not now babe, okay?"

At Steve's nod, Tony ordered JARVIS to turn off the television, pulling Steve to lie back down. Steve draped his arm across Tony's waist and pulled him as close as possible, burying his nose into his hair and breathing in.

"We need to let Peter use the glasses, Tony," Steve said after a short pause. "We need to make sure that—"

He broke off, not wanting to finish his thought. This wasn't really the time.

"We just need to," he finished.

"I know," Tony answered as he kissed Steve's knuckles. "We can tell him in the morning, all right?"

"Okay." Steve let out a semi-contented sigh as he cuddled even closer, kissing the top of Tony's head. _It had been so close!_

"I love you, mo grá. I love you so much."

Tony turned his head, just enough to reach Steve's jaw with his lips.

"I love you too, honey. Now, _sleep."_

Steve closed his eyes, allowing his body to relax into the mattress and reveling in the closeness of his beloved husband, the husband he had been so close to having to say goodbye to only moments before.

_First Bucky's successful experiment, and now the dead registration act bill, _Steve thought. _Maybe our luck is finally starting to change._

And, if that was indeed the case, then the time had come for him to finish the mission. Because of the vote, Steve now had a list of every single senator who had supported the registration act, which meant that he could determine exactly who in the government was out to get them, and work on figuring out why.

_And then, once we do that, we can take them down._

_All of them._

* * *

_**By my estimation there are four chapters remaining in the story, so we're getting close to the end! **_

_**I can't wait to see what you think! Please don't hesitate to leave me a review! :)**_


	15. Chapter 15

"Peter? Hey, are you even listening to me?"

The hard jab of Ned's index finger poking into Peter's arm made him jump, and he reluctantly returned to reality to find Ned holding a potato chip and glaring at him over his lunch tray.

"Ow!" he said, rubbing at his arm. "What the hell, Ned?"

"You're asking _me _what the hell? I've only been talking to you for like the last ten minutes and you've barely even acknowledged my existence," Ned said, popping the chip into his mouth. "It's like you're always in space or something lately, what's going on?"

"Yeah, well, I've just had a lot on my mind, okay?" Peter snapped. "In case you hadn't noticed, the liberty of my entire family was kinda at stake until only a couple days ago."

Ned gave a nod, his face relaxing into a more sympathetic look. "Yeah, okay, but why the hell didn't you say anything to me about it? I had to hear about it from my mom, don't you know how embarrassing that is?"

Peter dropped his chin to his chest, shaking his head. "I didn't really want to talk about it, Ned. Dad and Papa were already so stressed out, and… I don't know, I just didn't feel like being constantly reminded, ya know?" He didn't add that he'd been so continuously exhausted lately that even the thought of the whole registration act thing was enough to almost make him cry, not to mention the stress of his upcoming experiment with the MAUDE glasses. He was far too old to be bursting into tears at school, of all places.

"Mmm, I s'pose," said Ned. "I just… I thought we were best friends, but now you're telling Gwen stuff that you don't tell me, and spending almost all of your extra time with her, and—"

"Oh, and like you haven't been spending most of your free time with Betty lately?" Peter shot back. "You're with her every day after school!"

"Yeah, well, that's different," Ned insisted as he ate another chip. "You and I don't usually hang out once practise is done, so—"

"Yeah, whatever Ned," Peter said, purposefully squaring his shoulders as he took a sip of his milk. He had been sparring with Uncle Thor quite a bit lately, and one of the tips Uncle Thor had shared was to try and keep his shoulders as straight as possible, so as to not put too much strain on his mid-back muscles during hand-to-hand combat.

And while Peter didn't really think he'd be engaging in any hand-to-hand combat anytime soon, especially since he considered himself more of a flyer like Dad instead of a foot soldier like Papa, he had noticed a definite decrease in his headaches since he'd started paying attention to his shoulder positioning, so it hadn't just been empty advice.

That plus the fact that lately it seemed like Uncle Thor was the only member of Peter's family who even remembered how strong he was, and let him use his strength, made him even more likely to want to listen to him. Uncle Thor never seemed to go out of his way to baby him, which Peter really, really appreciated.

"I'm just saying. Just 'cause were both in relationships now doesn't mean that we can't still hang out," Ned continued. "I mean, we could even go on a double-date sometime, I'm sure Betty and Gwen wouldn't mind."

"No, probably not," Peter muttered, rubbing at his eyes. He'd been awake for over four hours the previous night working on more of the HYDRA files, and his eyes were already starting to lose their focus.

"Your eyes bothering you again?" asked Ned as he started peeling an orange. "I've noticed you've been wearing your glasses a lot more often lately."

Peter nodded as he picked up his own orange, taking care not to crush it as he attempted to peel it. He had grown another two centimetres since the trip to Italy, and had already managed to rip yet another backpack zipper and another two pairs of shoelaces. Both Papa and Uncle Bucky had been arm-wrestling with him in the evenings to help him learn to control his strength better, but he was getting to the point where he could beat them so easily now that he wasn't sure it was actually doing him any good anymore.

But, since Papa and Dad still refused to let him start training with the team again, the arm-wrestling and his sparring sessions with Uncle Thor were all that he had.

_Hmph._

"So, is your entire family going to be coming to the Decathlon finals?" asked Ned. "My mom's already been bragging to her book club about getting to stay in the Stark Industries building."

"Yeah, so far that's the current plan." Peter knew Uncle Thor and Uncle Bucky were looking forward to the trip, as long as Uncle Thor's brother didn't cause any more trouble in the meantime. He'd been having to return to Asgard almost every week lately to take care of something or other regarding Loki, which was pretty amazing considering that Loki was still imprisoned for his role in the Chitauri invasion.

As Uncle Thor put it, only Loki could cause so much trouble from a prison cell, but Peter also secretly wondered if Loki didn't just miss Uncle Thor from time to time, and therefore was making up problems just so he would come back to see him.

The god of mischief, indeed.

"You know Mr Harrington's gonna be gushing all over your dads once we get there," Ned said as he finished his milk, crushing the carton in his hand. "I kinda feel bad for them."

"Yeah," Peter said around a mouthful of orange. "I tried to warn them about it, but Dad knows Mr Harrington so he's pretty much used to him, and Papa's too polite to be mean to anyone, so it should be okay."

"That's true, your papa is pretty nice. Must be those old-fashioned manners." Ned rolled his eyes, leaning closer. "I think my mom has kind of a crush on him. She's always talking about how good he looks in his uniform and stuff."

"Mmm. Well, I doubt she's the only one," Peter said with a smirk. "You should've seen this bunch of girls that were following us around at the department store this past weekend. They got so bad that Papa finally had to ask them to leave us alone so I could try on some new jeans." Peter frowned at the memory, of the gaggle of girls oohing and aahing over his papa, and then giggling behind their hands as they tried to pretend like they weren't following them.

And he could only imagine how many pictures and videos they had posted on all the social media sites.

At least Uncle Thor hadn't been with them. The one time Peter and Papa had tried to take him to the grocery store on a Saturday had almost caused a riot in the meat department, so ever since then Uncle Thor had relied mainly on delivery for his food supply, with the occasional dinner or three with them in the penthouse.

"Oh, yeah?" Ned said. "That must've been weird."

"Yeah, you could say that," said Peter, although it was more so for Papa than himself. Having grown up with a pretty famous man for a father, Peter was a lot more used to the spotlight than Papa was, even after all the attention the Avengers had gained since the Battle of New York.

That still didn't mean that Peter wanted an audience when he was trying on pants, though.

"Well, anyway. You think maybe we could double-date to the dance?" asked Ned. "Since Betty's in charge of a lot of it she's not gonna be able to hang out with me as much while we're there, so I was thinking—"

"Yeah, probably," Peter cut in. "Let me double-check with Gwen first, okay? Hopefully she'll be back at school tomorrow." Gwen's little brothers had been passing a respiratory bug back and forth for about the last month or so, and she had finally succumbed to it the day before. Peter had asked JARVIS to send some chicken soup and a bouquet of tulips to her house before he'd left for school that morning, and he could still feel the flush on his neck from the thank-you text she'd sent him once they'd arrived.

"Yeah, sure."

The bell rang then, indicating the end of the lunch period. Peter quickly shoved the rest of his orange slices into his mouth as he gathered up his backpack and tray and followed Ned out of the lunchroom, heading towards their History class.

"You know, I just realised something," Ned said once they'd taken their seats. "Gwen's out sick today, but except for those few days that you were out after Liz's party you haven't been sick hardly at all this year, and you've always been the first to catch whatever it is that's going around. It's almost like Captain Rogers passed on his super-immunity to you somehow."

Peter gulped as he opened his laptop, ducking down behind it. "Yeah, well, Papa tries to keep us all pretty healthy, so…"

_And I never really had mono, that was just the excuse that Dad came up with._

He was saved from having to think of something else by the arrival of their teacher, and proceeded to spend the next fifty minutes putting the final touches on the latest design for his web shooters. He had also recently come up with yet another Spider-Man suit design, wanting to be as prepared as possible for when Dad and Papa finally agreed to let him start training again.

Which, now that the registration act had been killed, he was hoping would be sooner rather than later. He had noticed that Dad had already started work on a new set of uniforms for the entire team, including Uncle James, as well as discussing with Pepper about possibly taking legal action against Quentin Beck for the theft of Stark Industries property.

Unfortunately, Dad still needed to find some hard proof that Beck did actually steal from Stark Industries. They had Beck on record as saying that he'd had more of the CTX-616 manufactured, but since he was still a Stark Industries employee at the time it didn't count as proof that he had stolen it, so Peter was hoping that he would find something about it hidden inside the HYDRA files.

So far, based on what Peter had already found, HYDRA had apparently been trying to use the CTX-616 to convert ordinary people into a controlled, enhanced army, a process that coincided with the arrival of Aldrich Killian. Killian had taken the drug and altered it into the form that had given him his super strength and pyrokinetic abilities, but didn't affect his memory like the CTX-616.

But, according to what Peter understood from the files, the HYDRA scientist Doctor List was still working with the CTX-616 form, which meant that he was basically trying to replicate Killian's super-soldier experiments while still retaining the memory-wiping effects.

Basically, what HYDRA and the Winter Soldiers had been trying to do to Peter down in the Miami bunker.

And ever since then they've been trying to get him back, either to figure out where they went wrong, or use him to perfect their conversion process.

Or probably a bit of both.

And in the meantime this Doctor List person was still conducting his experiments, and no one had any idea where he was or how many other people he had managed to hurt in the process.

And, now there were two other people out there like Peter. A pair of siblings who had been found to be genetically enhanced from birth, and so far the only people to have survived Doctor List's experiments.

_But they're not gonna get me again, _Peter thought. _I won't let them._

Peter was so lost in his morbid thoughts that he completely forgot about watching the clock, nearly jumping out of his skin when the bell rang to end the period. He packed up his computer and books with shaking hands, kicking himself for not paying closer attention.

As Papa liked to say sometimes, he needed to get his head out of the clouds and be aware of his surroundings.

He managed to make it through the rest of his classes and Decathlon practise without further incident, although it took nearly every ounce of his strength to avoid launching his pen at Mr Harrington when he tried to give the team a pep talk towards the end. Peter was so used to his papa's amazing and inspiring pep talks that while he was sure Mr Harrington meant well, there was just no way that he could compare when all he could talk about were students puking before the competition.

To Peter's surprise, he found Uncle Sam and Auntie Nat waiting for him in the parking lot instead of his dads, his stomach dropping at the grim looks on their faces.

_What's going on now?_

"Your dads are both fine, kiddo," Uncle Sam said as soon as Peter climbed into the backseat, before he could even open his mouth. "They and the rest of the team just had to make an emergency trip up to the Compound, so Nat and I are gonna be in charge of keeping you alive for the evening, okay?"

"Okay, but what happened?" Peter asked. "What's the emergency?"

"Tony got word that one of the defence drones fired about fifteen minutes before they were gonna leave to come pick you up, милая ошибка," said Auntie Nat. "And since JARVIS couldn't give them a concrete explanation of what the drone tried to fire at, Steve decided that they should go and check it out in person."

Peter's deep frown was tempered only by Natasha's use of his special nickname, one that had caused Uncle Bucky's eyebrows to shoot up in shock the first time he'd heard Auntie Nat say it. Милая ошибка meant 'sweet little bug' in Russian, but apparently it also meant 'sweet mistake', which Uncle Bucky hadn't thought was very nice until Auntie Nat explained that that was just one of the weird intricacies about the Russian language.

"Okay, but what do you mean JARVIS couldn't tell them what the drone fired at? Didn't the video archive show anything?"

"Nothing 'cept a giant blur," answered Uncle Sam. "Almost looked like a sharp gust of wind if you ask me."

"Except that it only triggered one of the drones," said Auntie Nat. "Which means that whatever it was—"

"Would've had to have been moving pretty damn fast to be unseeable, especially by JARVIS," Uncle Sam cut in. "And as far as we know, no human can move that fast."

Peter's heart leapt into his throat. "That we know of," he repeated. "But what if—"

"Hey," Auntie Nat said soothingly, reaching back to pat Peter's knee. "It's gonna be okay. Like Sam said, it was probably just a strong gust of wind or something, and you know your papa just likes to be cautious. And thorough, especially since the septre's still being stored up there. He said they're just gonna do some quick investigating, maybe ask some of the SHIELD people if they saw anything, and then be back sometime tomorrow."

Peter gave a reluctant nod, his mind swirling with various theories. "Yeah, I know Papa likes to be thorough. No one got hurt though, right?"

"Nah, no one got hurt," said Uncle Sam. "Might've scared the hell outta some birds, but no one got hurt."

"Okay. That's good."

The three of them ended up cooking breakfast for dinner at the request of Auntie Nat, who made some of the best French toast that Peter had ever eaten in his life, and then even made him a cup of hot chocolate afterwards while he was working on his homework. It wasn't as good as Papa's hot chocolate, but it still tasted good.

And she even kissed his forehead when she tucked him in, just like Dad and Papa always did. Like Peter had told Ned, anyone who thought Natasha Romanoff was just a heartless, cold-blooded former KGB assassin didn't know the real her at all. She didn't let many people see her softer side, but to Peter she was the most sweet and loving woman he had ever met.

Peter had just pulled out his two laptops to start working on the HYDRA files when JARVIS announced that his dads were on the line. He quickly hid the computers under his blankets, running a nervous hand through his hair as he grabbed his tablet.

"Hey, buddy!" Dad said from the screen, with Papa sitting next to him in what looked like Dad's lab in their Compound apartment. "You doing okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, but what about you guys?" Peter said. "What's going on up there?"

"Nothing that you need to be worried about, Peter," Papa said, way too fast. "Dad and I are just checking up on a few things, okay? We should be back tomorrow in time to pick you up from school."

Peter internally rolled his eyes. "Mmm, okay. But Uncle Sam said that one of the drones fired, so—"

"And so far we can't figure out why, Pete," Dad said firmly. "Which means it was probably just a glitch."

"Or a warning shot," Peter muttered, catching himself when Papa gave him a frown. "Nevermind. You sure you'll be home tomorrow though?"

Papa and Dad both looked at each other, quirking their eyebrows in their silly silent communication thingy that both intrigued and annoyed Peter.

"If not tomorrow then definitely the next day, okay little guy?" Papa finally said. "We just want to make sure that Dad and Uncle Bruce have enough time to figure out where the glitch came from."

_And meanwhile, Uncle Clint's probably perched up on the roof, watching for more "glitches"._

"Yeah, okay." Peter dropped his gaze to his lap, fiddling with the blanket. "I miss you guys."

"We miss you too, bud, and we'll keep ya updated no matter what," said Dad. "Get some sleep now, yeah? You look tired."

Well, Dad wasn't wrong about that. "Uh huh."

"We love you, Peter," added Papa. "Sleep well."

"Uh huh. Love you too."

As soon as his tablet went blank Peter flopped back onto the bed, frustrated. It annoyed him so damn much that his dads still thought he was too young to know what was going on, especially since Uncle Sam had already told him that the drone had attempted to fire at something, so it wasn't just a glitch.

Something faster than a sharp gust of wind, apparently.

Frowning, Peter pulled out his computers, setting them up in front of him with his tablet at the ready. No sense in wasting the opportunity to work on the files before the wee hours of the morning.

_Maybe I'll even be able to get more than three hours of sleep tonight, _Peter thought, tucking his polar bear under his chin. _That'll be a first._

The first two files he downloaded turned out to be more supply lists, with his frustration almost boiling over into rage when the third ended up being yet another page of the HYDRA manifesto. Against his better judgement, Peter decided to read it anyway, the knot that had been sitting down in the pit of his stomach ever since he'd gone to bed growing larger and heavier with each passing sentence.

"_Complete infiltration of all major aspects of the United States power structure, as well as other major world powers, is imperative to overall success. Only then will there be enough fear sown to ensure complete world domination. Man will always fear what he does not understand."_

"Well, that's definitely the truth," Peter muttered. "Not like it's been driving Papa bonkers lately or anything."

As soon as the words left Peter's mouth a massive wave of guilt washed over him, one so strong that it nearly knocked him sideways. Here he was, sneaking around behind his dads' backs, getting involved in the very thing they didn't want him involved in. They had been keeping all of this stuff from him the whole time because they were trying to protect him, and now Peter was basically spitting right in the face of their fear.

_But it's only because I'm trying to help them,_ Peter thought. _It's not like I'm just trying to be a brat or something._

With a heavy sigh, Peter archived the file and selected the next, promising himself that this would the the last one he'd do for the night.

"I'm only trying to help them," Peter said again, hoping it would chase at least some of the guilt away. "They need all the help they can get."

The next file was long, so long that Peter's fingers were practically frozen solid by the time he'd finished typing it out. He rubbed at his throbbing temples, sliding his glasses as he started to read.

"_While CTX-616 has shown to produce adequate mind-control and loss of memory, it has yet to produce an enhanced individual of sufficient quality for our needs. With only two successful experimental subjects, we must begin to look elsewhere for a means of conversion."_

"Elsewhere for a means of conversion," Peter murmured, swiping his hand across his freezing cold nose. "So that has to mean that they never got their hands on more of the Aminacin." Dad had told Peter that Director Fury had confiscated and destroyed Killian's entire supply of the drug when the Miami bunker was raided, and while Peter knew that Director Fury often said one thing and did another, maybe this was evidence that he did actually destroy the stuff.

And good for him, since the Aminacin had caused most of the people who took it to explode, and almost ended up killing Dad.

"Look elsewhere for a means of conversion," Peter repeated, twice more as he tried to force his tired mind to keep working for just a little while longer.

_Look elsewhere for a means of conversion._

Obie and Killian had tried to convert Peter into a Winter Soldier using the Aminacin, but it didn't completely work. And when they finally realised that it wasn't working, that's when they pulled out—

"The sceptre!" Peter exclaimed, immediately clapping his hand over his mouth. Neither Uncle Sam or Auntie Nat had super hearing, but it still wouldn't do him any good to push things.

"That _has_ to be it!" Peter whispered, burying his face into his polar bear. It couldn't have been just a coincidence that someone—or something—had activated a defence drone up at the Compound, which just so happened to be the place where the sceptre was being stored.

Papa always said that he didn't believe in coincidences, and lately, neither did Peter.

HYDRA was trying to retrieve the sceptre. And they were using someone who could apparently move faster than the drones could target in order to get it.

_I can't sit on this, it's too important, _Peter thought miserably. _I'm gonna have to tell Dad and Papa._

The only question was _when?_ He couldn't tell them right away, not when he was scheduled to do his experiment with the MAUDE glasses in only a couple of days. This was gonna be a doozy of a confession, and he was too afraid that Dad would be so mad afterwards that he would cancel the experiment.

No, he'd have to wait until the experiment was over, and all of HYDRA's remaining influence over him was dead and gone.

_I promise I'll tell them once it's over_, he thought as he gathered up his equipment and shut off the lights. _I promise._

And maybe, if he was lucky, his dads would be so impressed by what he had found that they wouldn't be as mad at him for disobeying.

It was a long shot, but at the moment it was all he had.

* * *

"Are you sure that you're comfortable, little guy?" Steve asked as Bruce finished attaching the various leads to Peter's head and chest that would allow him to monitor his vital signs from the anteroom. "We can get you another heating pad, or another blanket, or—"

"I'm fine, Papa. It's hopefully not gonna take that long anyway," Peter said, only a bit impatiently. Steve could tell that he was nervous, with his bouncing legs and his long fingers pleating and unpleating the blankets, and also that he was otherwise trying really hard to hide it.

_He is so much like Tony._

"Well, we don't necessarily know how long it's gonna take," said Steve. "But if you're sure—"

"I'm sure, Papa. I'm just ready to get this over with."

Steve curled his arm around Peter's shoulders, planting a kiss on the top of his head as Tony came into the panic room and sat down on Peter's opposite side, his tired eyes radiating his own nervousness. He had been up for most of the night, checking and double-checking and calibrating and adjusting everything at least a thousand times, trying to make sure that he had thought of every single possible permutation. Steve had attempted to go to bed without him, still wiped out from their whirlwind trip up to the Compound, but after tossing and turning for over three hours he had just given up and made some food for them instead, finally convincing Tony to rest with him on the couch for an hour or so before Peter woke up.

They had also talked a bit about what they might see in Peter's memory. While Steve knew that Peter didn't remember all that much from the Miami bunker battle—which was fine with him since he had enough horrible memories for all three of them—this experiment was most likely going to cause a big resurgence of traumatic images, and not only for Peter, since both he and Tony were almost certain that Obadiah was going to show up at some point.

And if he did, well, it was likely going to be one of the strongest tests of Steve's will that he had ever had in his life. Even now as he sat next to his son, trying to project an image of calmness and support, Steve could already feel his blood start to boil at the thought of laying eyes on even a holographic version of Obadiah Stane, the only man that Steve could say with absolute certainty that he hated more than Johann Schmidt.

And he knew it would be even worse for Tony and Peter because of Stane's betrayal. Sam was definitely going to have his work cut out for him once the experiment was over.

"I think we're pretty much set out there, buddy," Tony said as Sam and Bucky entered the room, taking their seats against the back wall. He held out the MAUDE glasses, which Peter took with a trembling hand. "You still good with all this?"

"I'd be a lot better if everyone would stop asking me if I'm okay," Peter answered as he slid on the glasses. They were a bit too big for him, which Steve thought was adorable despite himself. Peter looked like a child playing with his father's glasses, which, from what Tony had told him, had been a pretty common occurrence when Peter was little. Something about how a two-year-old Peter thought it was really funny to put on his daddy's glasses when Tony was trying to work, and then refuse to give them back.

"Mine!" Peter would say. "Petey cute!"

Because of course he was.

Tony shot Steve a look, one that Steve had taken to calling his _ugh_ look.

"All right, buddy," Tony said, ruffling Peter's hair. "Then just sit back and try to relax, I'm sure Uncle Bruce'll be ready soon."

Peter nodded, leaning back against the pillows and closing his eyes. Through the windows, Steve could see Bruce inputting his final settings and commands, with Natasha and Clint standing off to the side in the anteroom. His heart swelled a bit at the fact that almost their entire family had insisted on being there to support Peter. James hadn't been able to get away from D.C. and Thor had been called away the day before for yet another issue with his brother, but even they had both taken the time to get in touch with Peter to wish him luck.

They all loved him, and Steve knew that not a single one of them would hesitate to take care of both he and Tony if it ever became necessary.

Because while the Superhero Registration Act may have been defeated, Steve knew that there was no way HYDRA was just going to roll over and die. There would be something else, some new loophole or regulation, and if the incident up at the Compound was any indication, it would be happening sooner rather than later.

Steve inhaled a deep, shaky breath, pressing another kiss to Peter's head as he tried to purge the murky thoughts from his mind. He and Tony's second wedding anniversary had been a few days ago, and as long as Peter's experiment went okay they were planning on going out for a nice dinner the following weekend, some new place that had been supposedly booked up for weeks, but still managed to find a table when Tony Stark called for a reservation.

Just another example of how much the public seemed to love the Avengers. Or Tony, at least.

"Okay, guys, I think we're all set out here," Bruce suddenly said over the intercom. "Peter, we can start whenever you're ready."

Peter's pale cheeks blanched even whiter as he gulped, giving Bruce a quick nod.

"Uh huh," he said quietly. "I'm—I'm good to go."

Tony's _ugh_ look grew even more pronounced. "Pete, we don't have to—"

"No!" Peter snapped, crossing his arms. "I'm ready now, so let's do this!"

Tony pursed his lips, glancing at Steve over Peter's head. "All right, big guy, go ahead and activate the interface."

Steve's heart gave a lurch as the shiny blue light flickered across the lenses of the glasses, with Peter's eyes going wide a second later.

"It's all right, Pete, that's just the interface connection," Tony said, his voice low and tight like it usually was when he was upset or scared. He reached for Peter's hand, squeezing it gently. "Just try and relax, okay?"

"Uh huh." Peter breathed in, letting it out slowly. "I'm ready, Uncle Sam. You can start now."

"All right, kiddo," Sam said as he got to his feet. He stepped up next to the bed, placing a reassuring hand on Steve's shoulder.

"Longing," Sam said, clear and even. Steve flinched as Peter's limbs immediately went rigid, fear evident in his huge brown eyes.

"It's all right, little guy," he said. "We're right here."

"Rusted," Sam continued at Steve's nod. "Furnace—"

"No," Peter said softly, swallowing hard. "They can't… I'm not gonna. I'm not gonna let them have me."

"It's okay bud, Papa and I are right here," said Tony. "Just keep breathing, we're not gonna leave you."

"Daybreak."

Peter shook his head, clapping his free hand over his ear. "No, no, no. They can't have me, Daddy, they can't. I'm not gonna let them!"

"That's 'cause you're stronger than they are, bud," Tony murmured. "You're way stronger than any of those assholes."

"Dad's right, little guy," said Steve. "You're so strong, there's no way they can get you."

Peter's jaw tightened and he breathed in, giving Steve a single nod.

"Uh huh."

"That's our boy," Steve said proudly. "Sam, keep going."

"Copy that," Sam said. "Seventeen—"

The word had barely passed through Sam's lips when the MAUDE glasses activated, and four burly men and one tall, muscular woman suddenly appeared on the opposite side of the room, who Steve recognised as the other five Winter Soldiers. They were all crowded around a dark grey table outfitted with heavy metal restraints, chanting various words in what Steve assumed to be Russian while an IV bag attached to a pole on one of the table's upper corners dispensed a bright yellow liquid into their prisoner.

"Oh my God," Steve choked out as one of the soldiers stepped back, revealing his beloved boy. The image Peter's back was arched up off the table, his arms and legs straining against the restraints and his sweet face screwed into an expression of almost unimaginable pain. Next to Steve, Peter gave a soft cry at the sight, instinctively shrinking back and squeezing Tony's hand so hard that he yelped in pain.

"Steve, I can't—he's gonna—!"

"Peter, it's okay," Steve cut in as he reached for their joined hands, peeling Peter's fingers away from Tony's and wrapping them around his own. Tony's face was ashen, his beautiful eyes glassy and tortured as they locked with Steve's.

"Steve, it's just gonna get worse!"

"I know, sweetheart, but we owe it to him to help him get through this." A knot the size of a marble rose in Steve's throat, his own eyes burning with unshed tears. "We have to see it through, Tony, we have to!"

_We can't allow HYDRA to have any influence over any of us, and especially not over Peter._

Tony's eyebrows twitched, his expression vacillating between rage and anguish. "Bruce? Everything okay out there?"

"His heart rate and blood pressure are elevated like he's under stress, Tony, but neither of them are dangerous," said Bruce. "You know I'll let you know if they get too high."

"Yeah, okay," muttered Tony, flinching as Image Peter let out a brief but piercing scream, biting down so hard on his bottom lip that he drew blood.

"Daddy!" Peter shrieked as he buried his head in Tony's shoulder, his hand gripping Steve's like a vise. "They can't—they can't have me! No matter what—I won't—I'm not gonna let them!"

"No one's gonna get you, buddy," Tony said firmly as he ran his fingers through Peter's hair. "No one's gonna ever get you, not while any of us are alive."

"Dad's right, Peter," Steve whispered into Peter's ear. "Just squeeze my hand, okay? Squeeze as hard as you need to, and I promise it's gonna be all right."

Another sharp cry from the table sent a massive shiver rocketing down Steve's spine as Image Peter started thrashing from side to side, trying to break from the metal bands holding down his limbs.

"No!" screamed Image Peter. "You can't have me!"

"Sam, keep going!"

"Right," Sam said grimly. "Benign! Nine! Home—!"

"Это не работает!" one the Winter Soldiers said. "Он борется с этим!"

"He said, 'it's not working', Steve," said Natasha over the intercom. "'He is fighting it!'"

"That's 'cause he's the strongest of us," Steve said, wincing as Peter's grip on his hand tightened even further. "No one else could've resisted this. No one."

There was a short pause as the other Winter Soldiers discussed what to do, with one of them finally stepping out of sight. Steve watched him go, his heart sinking as he realised what was about to happen.

"Tony," he said, as he touched his husband's cheek. "Sweetheart, maybe you shouldn't be watching this. You don't need to—"

"There's no way in hell that I'm going anywhere, Steve," Tony snapped. "There's just no goddamn way. I'm _fine."_

_No, you're not,_ Steve thought. But before he could continue Obadiah Stane suddenly appeared, walking right up to Image Peter and bending over him, examining him like he was a lab rat.

Rage flooded Steve's body so intensely at the sight of that horrible, despicable man leering over his son that he literally saw red. His belly gave a violent swoop as he gritted his teeth, trying to hold himself together as Peter let out a frightened squeak next to him, squeezing his hand so hard that Steve's knuckles popped.

"Papa—!"

"I know, little guy, and I'm gonna take care of it for you." Steve had just shifted his leg to step off the bed when he felt a cold, metal hand grip his shoulder.

"Don't, Стиви," Bucky said. "Птер needs to do it himself or it won't work. He needs to be free of it. You know that he does, and you know why."

For a moment Steve could only gape at his friend, knowing that he was absolutely right, but wishing like hell that he wasn't.

_Oh God, he's right. Bucky's right, it has to be him. _

Peter's mind had to alter the memory himself or the experiment would be a failure, only Steve had honestly no clue how he and Tony were going to be able to just watch their boy be tortured by the very same man who should've loved him like a grandson.

"But, Bucky, I don't—"

"You have to, Стив, and you know it," said Bucky. "For him."

The tears Steve had been trying to hold back finally spilled down his cheeks, dripping onto his lap as he looked over Peter's head at his husband. Tony's face was almost completely impassive, with only his tight jaw and a single twitching vein in his temple revealing his profound anger and betrayal at seeing his former mentor/ father figure willingly torture his son.

"Tony—"

"Don't talk to me right now, Steve," Tony snapped as he stared straight at Stane's impeccably dressed and groomed holographic image. "This isn't about me, and I'm not going anywhere."

"But it is, sweetheart, don't you see?" Steve said. "It's about both of you, and—"

"I said, _no!"_ Tony said through clenched teeth. "Now, shut the hell up and let's get this over with!"

"Tony, Bucky's got a point," Sam said carefully. "I know Peter's your son, but you can't fight this for him. He has to do it himself or none of it will mean a damn thing."

"Listen to Эем, he knows what he's talking about," Bucky said. "Птер has to do this himself, that's the only way he'll be free of it."

"Oh God," Steve breathed. "Bucky, I don't know—I don't think I can leave him—I can't—

"You're not leaving him, Стив, you'll still be here," Bucky said, giving Steve's shoulder a light shake. "But you need to help your husband. I will help Птер."

Steve swiped at his eyes, stealing another glance at Tony who hadn't moved a single millimetre, his eyes still glaring bullets at Obadiah Stane. For however much it was hurting Steve to watch what Stane did to Peter down in that Miami bunker, he knew it had to be a million times worse for Tony. Their previous discussions notwithstanding, Steve knew that talking about it was completely different than actually reliving it, and he also suspected that Tony hadn't been quite prepared for how much pain physically laying eyes on Stane again would cause him.

And as much as it devastated him to admit, Bucky was right. Peter needed to overcome the HYDRA programming on his own, and while having to witness it was going to be one of the most heart-wrenching things he ever experienced, Steve had no doubt that Peter could it.

Right now, it was Tony who needed him.

With a single nod, Steve pressed a kiss to Peter's temple. "Peter, Dad and I are just gonna go and stand in the back of the room so Uncle Bucky can sit with you, okay? He's—it'll be better for you with him here. All right?"

Peter's sweet brown eyes briefly locked with Steve's, and he gave him a stuttered nod. "Uh—uh huh, Papa."

"That's my brave boy," Steve whispered. "You're the bravest person I've ever seen, little guy, I know you can do this."

"Uh huh."

Steve kissed Peter again, then slowly unwound Peter's fingers from his hand, flexing it a couple times once it was free and wincing at the pain shooting across his knuckles. Nothing felt broken, but given Peter's immense super-strength Steve suspected that it had been close. He got to his feet, hurrying around to the other side of the bed to find Tony still staring at Stane, completely still and unblinking, almost as though he had gone catatonic.

"Tony," he said gently as he worked his hand underneath Tony's arm, giving him a slight shake when Tony didn't respond. "Sweetheart, come with me, okay?"

"Don't fucking touch me," Tony said, so low that Steve barely heard him. "I'm not going anywhere."

"We're just going to the back of the room, mo grá," Steve pleaded as Bucky took his place next to Peter. He offered Peter his metal left hand which Peter immediately latched onto, squeezing it so tightly that his knuckles went white. "Bucky's gonna stay here with Peter."

Several heartbeats ticked by as Steve waited for Tony to move, finally giving his arm another gentle tug.

"Sweetheart, please come with me. Let me help you."

Tony slowly shook his head, squeezing his eyes closed as his lower lip started to shake. "Steve, I can't—I can't leave him. Not now. Not again. If I would've—I should've been there. I should've been able to _stop _this, and—and I _didn't,_ and now—"

"Shh, mo grá, you know that's not true." He finally hefted Tony off the bed, practically carrying him to the back of the room where he gathered him into his arms. "This wasn't your fault, Tony, none of it was your fault. It was all HYDRA."

"Goddamn Obadiah," Tony spat out against Steve's chest. "I should've seen it coming, so why didn't I? There were so many signs! So many signs that I fucking _missed!_ How in the hell could I have missed them?"

"Shh," Steve said again, weaving his fingers into Tony's hair. "Peter's stronger than both of us, sweetheart. It's why Stane was so afraid of him, and why HYDRA targeted him. But it's also the very same reason why he'll be able to get through this. And once he does, he'll be free of them forever. I know it hurts, but we have to let him do this. We have to let him show how strong he is."

Tony sniffed, giving a barely perceptible nod. "Sometimes I really hate when you're right."

A choked half-laugh worked its way from Steve's throat. "Me too, mo stór. Me too."

"Uhh, I hate to interrupt, but we really need to get going here," said Sam. "We're still only about halfway through this."

"Yeah, Sam, thanks," said Steve. He released Tony, sucking in a deep, shaky breath as he glanced down at Bucky and Peter. "Go ahead."

"Copy that," said Sam as he stepped closer to Peter, laying a hand on the headboard of the bed. "One."

Peter jumped as his image counterpart let out another brief scream, his breaths coming in stuttered gasps as he stared up at Stane.

"Это не работает," one of the Winter Soldiers said to Stane. "Он борется с этим."

"Mmm," said Stane, running his fingers along his salt and pepper goatee. "Well, then I guess we'll just have to try something a bit stronger." He stepped back, jerking his head towards the far corner of the image. "Get the sceptre."

"Oh God," Steve murmured as he reached for Tony's hand. If he and Tony's assumptions were correct, Peter's mind was going to try and put him into another coma as soon as the final word was uttered, the self-defence mechanism that he had created while he was fighting against the sceptre. But in order for him to completely destroy the programming, Peter would need to stay conscious enough to help his image counterpart fight against the sceptre.

The sceptre had been Stane's trump card in trying to convert Peter, and they had to ensure that it got played or the whole thing would be for naught.

"Sam, keep going!" Steve said. "Get all the words done before the sceptre shows up!"

Sam gave a nod, stepping up right next to Peter while Bucky leaned in, whispering something into his ear.

"Freight car!"

As soon as the final word was uttered Peter's eyes rolled back into his head and he went completely rigid on the bed, almost as though he was having a fit of some kind. Tony let out a frightened noise, taking one step towards him before Steve grabbed him around the waist, halting him.

"No, sweetheart, we can't!" he choked out, even as every single fibre of his being wanted nothing more than to rush towards his boy. "We need to let him fight this!"

Tony looked up at him, his brown eyes filled with such torturous anguish that Steve nearly broke down completely. "Steve… _how?"_ How can we just stand here and _watch_ him slip away again?"

"We have to do it together, okay?" Steve answered. "That's the only way we'll get through any of this."

A single tear rolled down Tony's cheek, catching on his facial hair. "Steve—"

But he was cut off by Bucky who had Peter in his arms, still whispering into his ear, his words a mix of English and Russian.

"Listen to me, Птер. You are stronger than them. You are the strongest person they have ever seen, and you can fight this! Ты сильнее их! Now, show them!"

A harsh, guttural groan sounded from Peter's chest, raising all the hair on the back of Steve's neck as Loki's sceptre was brought into the image. Peter was still conscious, but only barely.

"You can't have me!" Image Peter cried. "I'm not gonna let you!"

"Shut up, you goddamn brat!" Stane yelled as he got right into Image Peter's face. "You will comply or you will die, you got that? And once we have you, we're gonna do the same thing to every single member of that family of yours, you understand me? Every single one, starting with that asshole Captain America! And then we'll see how high and mighty you all are up there in your goddamn Tower!"

Image Peter only stared at Stane, sucking in a deep breath as he regarded him. Then he deliberately squared his jaw, turned his head, and trained his bruised and bloodshot eyes on the grey, concrete ceiling.

"Go ahead and try," he said, his voice so clear that Steve's knees nearly buckled.

_He is so strong!_

With a snarl, Stane stepped back, nodding at the Winter Soldier carrying the sceptre. "Give him a zap."

The entire panic room was instantly filled with a nearly blinding yellowish light as the sceptre activated, the Winter Soldier shining it directly in Image Peter's face. Steve flinched as Image Peter let out a horrible, bloodcurdling scream, his back arching up off the table.

"No, no, no, Птер, now's not the time to give up!" cried Bucky from the bed. He tucked Peter to his chest, giving his cheek a light slap to try and keep him conscious. "Stay with me, kiddo, you need to fight this!

"So tired, Uncle Bucky!" Peter said, his words slurred like he was drunk. "Just wanna sleep! Want nothing!"

"No, Птер, you can't sleep right now," Bucky pleaded. "We need you to stay awake and finish this."

But Peter only groaned, his head flopping against Bucky's chest. "So tired! Please, no more! Just wanna sleep! Wanna go into the nothing!"

"But it's not sleep, Птер, don't you see?" said Bucky. "It's like stasis, where there's nothing but a bunch of nothingness. You can't see anything, you can't hear or touch anything, and most of all you can't feel anything. And that's what they want. They want you to not feel anything because that's how they control you. You're nothing to them, just a mindless drone doing whatever they command you to do, and then when they don't need you they just stuff you away, back into the nothing."

The Winter Soldiers were still bent over Image Peter, chattering in Russian and obviously confused.

"He's still fighting it, Steve!" Natasha said from the anteroom. "None of them can believe it, they've never seen anything like it!"

"Again!" shouted Stane. "And again, and again, and again! As long as it takes!"

"No! You can't have me!" screamed Image Peter as the sceptre flashed, with Peter joining in from the bed less than a second later. Tony flinched in Steve's arms, scrabbling against his chest as Steve tried to cover his ears.

"We're almost there, Птер!" said Bucky. "Don't give up now!"

"Please, just let me go into the nothing!" Peter cried. "The nothing means no pain, no dreams! Please, I'm just so tired!"

"There may be no dreams in the nothing, Птер, but that doesn't mean they won't be waiting for you when you come back," said Bucky. "And you need to want those dreams gone! You need to chase them away so they never come back! Before I did this, my dreams were the worst that I've ever had. Images of what I was all folding in on each other. Every single person I killed flashing across my eyes like a moving picture. I see everything that I tried so hard to forget. Torture. Slaughter. And training others to do the same. So much blood, so much horror that I would wake up vomiting, but it never helped. None of it helped until I was free! And I want you to be free!"

Once again the sceptre flashed, even brighter and longer than before. Image Peter's cries of pain were getting quieter, his strength starting to falter.

It was now or never.

"Now, Птер!" Bucky exclaimed. "You need to do it now!"

A moment of eerie silence fell across the panic room, with everyone holding their collective breaths.

_C'mon, little guy! You can do this!_

And then Peter pushed himself up on the bed, his eyes firmly trained on his image self.

"No!" he said, loud and so clear that Steve's arms pebbled with goosebumps. "You can't have me!"

"No!" Image Peter repeated, panting for breath but just as clear. "You can't have me!"

Instantly the image shifted, the millions of pixels rearranging themselves into a picture of the main square of the Miami bunker. Fires burned in nearly all directions as the horrible sounds of the battle filled the panic room, explosions and gunshots and repulsor blasts interspersed with Hulk's terrifying roars. Steve gasped as his eyes landed on Image Peter dangling from one of the upper-level railings, his frightened face covered in dust and soot.

"Papa," Steve suddenly heard, both from Peter on the bed and inside his own mind. He immediately snapped his head back, clapping a hand over his ear.

"Papa," he heard again, his heart leaping into his throat. "Please, help me! I'm so tired!"

Somehow the experiment seemed to have caused he and Peter's empathic connection to reactivate, the same connection that had allowed him to locate Peter during the battle.

"Papa, help me!" Peter said again as he slumped against Bucky, his eyes barely open. "I'm so tired, I just wanna sleep!"

_Papa, help me! I can't hold on anymore!_

"Peter!" Steve shrieked as Image Peter's hands slipped slightly on the railing. He jerked back as he saw himself enter the image, looking up at Image Peter dangling from the railing as he raced up a broken metal ladder.

"It's okay, little guy!" his image said. "Just hold on a little while longer, I'm almost there!"

Steve's heart was thudding so fast that he could barely stay upright, his arms tight around Tony as if to remind himself that Tony was alive and well, and not lying in a hospital bed somewhere with his chest gaping open. The image displayed right in front of him and everyone else was one that had tormented him every single day since the battle. It was a near-constant thorn in the back of his mind, haunting both his waking hours and his dreams.

_He needed me to catch him, but I didn't._

_And then, we almost lost him._

_I almost lost them both._

"Стиви, he's trying to fall asleep again!" warned Bucky.

"No!" cried Tony. "Oh God, Pete, don't give up now!"

"Guys, his EEG and heart rate are slowing down!" Bruce said over the intercom. "We're losing him!"

"Papa," Peter said again, barely audible, his eyes completely closed. "I can't hold on anymore!"

"It's okay, little guy, I'm almost there!" Image Steve said as he arrived one level below where Image Peter was hanging, dropping his shield and raising his arms. "You'll just drop right into my arms, okay?"

Image Peter hesitated, crying out as his hands slipped again.

"Papa?"

"Peter, you gotta let go, okay?" he heard himself say. "It's all right, little guy, I'm gonna catch you!"

Steve nearly choked as he saw Image Peter nod, his brown eyes briefly flashing orange as he let go of the railing.

_But then the explosion blew him sideways, and I—I didn't—_

_I didn't catch him._

As if in slow motion, Steve watched his son fall, bracing himself for the explosion that he knew was coming.

Only this time, there was no explosion.

"Steve!" Tony exclaimed as Image Peter dropped from the railing, right into Image Steve's arms.

Steve had caught him.

He was safe.

"Papa's got you, little guy, I've got you," Image Steve said. He cradled his boy in his arms as Tony skidded to a halt behind them, his helmet retracting as his armoured arms pulled them both against his chest.

"Everything's gonna be okay now," said Image Tony. "It's all over.

_It's all over._

Steve heard a soft cough from the bed, and he looked down to see Bucky helping Peter to sit up, blinking and bleary-eyed like he had just woken up from a long nap. He breathed in, squaring his shoulders as he looked directly at his image counterpart.

"Everything's okay now," he said. "It's all over."

Image Peter gave a nod, still wrapped in both his dads' arms. "Everything's okay now."

And then the whole scene dissolved, leaving only reality behind.

Once again, silence fell across the panic room as Peter collapsed back against Bucky, with Tony practically vibrating in Steve's arms as Bucky looked back at them, a wide smile stretched across his face.

"Стиви, I think we're good here."

"Bruce?" Tony said. "Are we—are we good here?"

"Everything looks good here, Tony!" Bruce said excitedly. "Seems like he did it!"

Before Steve could even react Tony had torn himself free, rushing over to their son and tucking his head against his chest.

"I'm okay now, Dad," Peter said as Steve came up behind them, embracing them both. "It's all over."

Tony shuddered, sliding the glasses from Peter's face before burying his nose into his hair. "I know it is. But goddamnit, bud, do ya think that you and Papa could make it just a little less dramatic next time? I mean, geez!"

Peter sputtered out a laugh, burrowing even closer to Tony as Bucky got up from the bed. Steve glanced up at him, giving him a nod of thanks which Bucky returned with a soft smile.

The experiment had worked. Peter was now completely free from HYDRA's influence.

And maybe, just maybe, Steve would now be able to let go of some of the guilt he'd been carrying ever since the Miami battle.

Steve stepped back as the rest of the team filed into the room, with Natasha being the first to wrap Peter into a hug, followed quickly by Clint and Bruce.

"Can we go get some food now?" Peter asked once everyone had taken their turn. "I'm hungry."

"But of course you are," Tony said with a laugh.

"What do you feel like having, little guy?" Steve asked.

Peter gave a shrug. "Pizza's always good, isn't it?"

"Damn right, kiddo," Clint said as he mussed Peter's hair. "C'mon, let's get the hell outta here. I've had enough of this room to last a long, long time."

_Yeah,_ Steve thought as he helped Peter to his feet, then reached for Tony's hand.

_Me too._

* * *

"Excellent choices, gentlemen. If you'll excuse me, I'll be right back with your drinks," said the waiter as he took the menus from their hands, giving a slight bow as he stepped away. As soon as he was out of sight Steve reached across the table for Tony's hand, running his thumb along the wedding ring that he'd placed on his finger two years ago.

_Holy shit, we've been married for two years._

_Two whole years._

It was the longest relationship that Tony had ever had. Before Steve, Tony had always freaked out around the sixteen-month mark and ended things, too scared of commitment to want to continue any further.

And that had only been twice.

And both times were before his parents died and Peter came along.

_Guess I really have changed._

"So, do I want to know why there weren't any prices listed on the menu?" Steve asked with a smile, one that made his blue eyes sparkle and reveal the dimple that never failed to make Tony's breath catch.

"Pretty sure it's one of those things where if you have to ask, you can't afford it, honey," Tony murmured. "But why does it matter?"

"Tony—" Steve started, tilting his head.

"Nuh uh," Tony cut in. Steve had already tried to convince Tony that they could just go out to a pub or something in Brooklyn to celebrate their anniversary, but Tony wasn't having it. "This is a special occasion and you're more than worth it, so just hush, yeah?"

Steve's eyebrows knitted together, but he smiled again anyway.

"All right."

He sat back as the waiter placed their drinks in front of them, some fancy Italian beer that Steve had wanted to try. Steve reached for his glass as soon as the waiter disappeared, raising it in a toast.

"To us," Steve said. "To celebrating one of the happiest days of my life, and for the lifetime to come."

"You're such a sap," Tony said as he clinked their glasses together and took a sip. The beer was rather good, smooth and rich with none of the "beer" aftertaste that Tony didn't like. Before Steve, Tony could have counted on one hand the amount of times that he'd actually drank beer, always preferring Scotch as his drink of choice, and not the cheap stuff either.

But then Peter came along, and although Tony had been tempted more than a few times over the years, he hadn't touched a drop of the stuff since then.

"So, I was thinking," Steve said once their entrees had arrived, the finest steak and lobster that New York City had to offer.

"Oh, tell me more, honey," Tony said with a grin. "You know how much I love it when you get to thinking."

Steve chuckled, showing that dimple again as he took a bite of his steak, and it was all Tony could do to not try and drag him off to the men's room right then and there. He didn't know if it was the fact that it was their anniversary dinner or what, but Steve was looking so incredibly gorgeous that evening in his perfectly tailored navy blue pinstripe suit that Tony could barely take his eyes off him, much less try and keep his hands to himself.

"I was thinking, Peter's summer vacation is coming up in about a month, and since we went to Italy over his break, I was wondering if we could plan a trip to Ireland sometime during the summer? Maybe take him to a couple of the places that we went on our honeymoon?"

"Like where your mom and dad were from?" asked Tony.

"Yeah. I guess I'd just like him to get to see some of it."

"Well, I'm sure it'll be a hard sell, but I don't see why we can't at least try," Tony said, winking. "You know how much Pete hates exploring new places."

And there was that damn dimple again, sending a shock of warmth blooming across Tony's chest. At this rate, there was no way Tony was going to even make it through dinner.

"You gonna want to invite the whole team again?" Tony asked. "Another team-building field trip?"

Steve shook his head. "I thought about it, but I'm thinking no for this time. I think I'd prefer it just be the three of us."

Tony smirked as he took another sip of his beer. "You know that'll mean fewer distractions for Pete though, right?"

Steve blushed, looking down at his plate. "Yeah, I did think of that, but Peter seems to pretty much run the other way whenever I try and hold your hand in front of him, so I'm hoping it won't be too much of an issue."

"That's true," Tony said with a laugh. He honestly couldn't remember ever seeing his own parents be affectionate with each other so he knew his frame of reference wasn't great, but he also had a strong feeling that not too many of Peter's classmates had parents that seemed to like each other as much as his did.

But then again, none of Peter's classmates' parents were married to Steve Rogers either.

"Well, I'm up for it either way," Tony continued. "Just let me know the dates once you have them so I can tell Pepper when we'll be gone."

Steve gave a nod. "Sounds good."

They made more small talk through the rest of their meal, including dessert—a chocolate soufflé something-or-other that Steve had wanted to order—and coffee. It was very relaxing and romantic, and after the stress of the Registration Act and the MAUDE experiments, Tony was immensely grateful for it.

And he was even more immensely grateful for what he knew awaited he and his drop-dead gorgeous husband once they got home.

If they were able to make it home, that is. At this rate, the only thing keeping Tony from pouncing on Steve as soon as they got back to the car was how mad Pepper would be if they got caught.

"It was such a pleasure serving you gentlemen on this fine evening," their waiter said as Tony paid the bill, giving him a three hundred dollar tip. "I hope you have a both have a lovely evening, and happy anniversary."

"Oh, I think we will," Tony said, smirking when Steve blushed again. He got to his feet, clearing his throat as he offered Tony his arm.

"Shall we, sweetheart?"

"Hell yes," Tony said. "We definitely shall."

Like many fine New York City dining establishments, their restaurant was located on the very top floor of an exclusive hotel. Tony thought it was a bit odd when he happened to notice a man dressed in a poorly-fitting suit standing inside the restaurant's waiting area as they left, but didn't think anything else of it until the elevator doors opened into the parking garage level and three other men stepped out of a nondescript black sedan, one of whom Tony recognised as FBI Agent Bartlett, his father's old acquaintance.

"Mr Stark," Bartlett said, pulling his badge from his breast pocket as Tony's belly gave a hard swoop. "Captain Rogers. Good evening."

"Agent Bartlett," Tony said, gripping Steve's arm. "So I guess you are still alive, hmm?"

"Is there something we can do for you, Agent?" Steve asked in his Captain's voice, his hand covering Tony's on his arm. Tony could tell he was fighting the urge to step in front of him, which meant that his hackles were already up, which usually meant that something very _not good_ was about to happen.

Bartlett's eyes flicked briefly from Steve to Tony and back to Steve again before nodding towards his two partners. The two men started to approach Steve from opposite sides, almost as though as they were trying to corner him.

"What the hell is going on?" Tony demanded. "What is this?"

"I'm sorry, Mr Stark, but I have orders," said Bartlett as one of his partners pulled out a pair of handcuffs that looked like they could've contained a rhinoceros.

"Orders? What in the goddamn hell are you talking about? Who's orders?"

But Bartlett just ignored him as one of his partners stepped behind Steve, grabbing onto his upper arms. "Steve Rogers, you're under arrest for the falsification of information on your Army enlistment form. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say may be—"

"What?" Tony yelled, completely aghast. "That's a bunch of bullshit, and you know it!"

"Tony, don't!" Steve said, grunting as the agent cuffed his hands behind him. "Please, sweetheart, don't. Don't give them anything that they could use against you."

"_What?"_ Tony instinctively reached for Steve, only to have his arm grabbed by one of the other agents. "Use against me?" he said as he tore himself free. "They don't have _anything _against either one of us, so now they're just making shit up!"

"Sweetheart, _please, _don't!" Steve pleaded, his blue eyes so filled with worry that it stole Tony's breath. "You need to take care of Peter, okay? Make sure he's safe."

_Make sure Peter is safe. _That was Steve-code for 'get ready to pack him off to Asgard', but at the moment Tony was too upset to think of much of anything besides getting his husband out of the vile clutches of the three HYDRA agents standing in front of him.

Of all the low, scum-of-the-earth ways to circumvent the failure of the Registration Act, this wasn't one that Tony ever saw coming.

_I should've seen this coming! Why didn't I see this coming?_

"Steve," he whimpered, his heart in his throat. "C'mon, honey, don't let them do this!"

Steve's lower lip quivered as he shook his head. "Please, mo grá. Just keep Peter safe."

He surged forward then, catching Tony's lips in a desperate kiss as the three agents yanked on his arms, tearing him away. Tony immediately lunged for him, only to be stopped by Agent Bartlett's palm on his chest.

"Don't, Mr Stark, you'll only make this worse," he said, so smugly that Tony had to fight the urge to punch his lights out. "I strongly suggest that you go home now."

"But—!" Tony stammered, tears stinging his eyes as Steve called out a soft, "I love you" just before he was shoved into the backseat of Bartlett's car, followed by one of the agents.

_But… he didn't do anything, and we were celebrating our anniversary, and all this is a bunch of made-up HYDRA bullshit, and—_

_What in the goddamn hell am I going to tell Pete?_

"Where are you taking him?" Tony asked quietly.

"Just a holding facility," Bartlett said. He handed Tony a business card, pointing to a phone number. "You can call that number on Monday to arrange for—"

"Monday? There's no way in hell that I'm waiting until Monday!" Tony exclaimed. "No, you can be damn sure that you'll be hearing from my lawyers before midnight tonight, you got that? This is all just a big pile of bullshit and you know it!"

Agent Bartlett's lips twitched into a smirk. "Suit yourself, Mr Stark. Goodnight."

And then he turned on his heel and climbed into the car. Tony watched as it drove away, leaving him behind, his heart cracking in two and his mind spinning so fast that he felt lightheaded.

"_Keep Peter safe," _Steve had said. "_I love you."_

If Tony hadn't known any better, it would've almost sounded as though Steve was giving up, but Tony knew he would never do that. Especially not against HYDRA.

He was just putting Tony and Peter ahead of himself, like he always did.

_Goddamn stubborn soldier._

Tony stood rooted to the spot for several heartbeats, almost too afraid to move. It wasn't until another car honked at him to get out of the way that he drew in a deep breath and hurried towards his car, gripping the steering wheel with both hands as soon as he was inside.

There was no way he was going to allow Steve to sit in some HYDRA holding facility until Monday, because he knew without a doubt that there was no way Steve would even still be in that holding facility come Monday.

He had to act fast.

"JARVIS, is Pete okay?" he said in a shaky voice as he started the car.

"Master Peter is currently located in Sergeant Barnes' apartment with he and Agent Barton, sir," replied JARVIS. "They are watching a hockey game."

"Okay, good." That probably meant that Peter hadn't heard about what happened yet. "Get Pepper, Rhodey, and Sam on the line, will ya? I need to talk to them."

"Very good, sir."

A few seconds later the three faces appeared on Tony's dashboard screen, all looking confused.

"Tony?" Pepper asked. "What's going on?"

"Uhh," Tony said, barely able to get the words out. "Steve… he's… um… Sam, is my kid okay?"

"Yeah, Tony, as far as I know he's fine," replied Sam. "He and Clint went down to Bucky's apartment for the game. Why?"

Tony swiped his hand across his nose, barely avoiding sideswiping another car as he attempted to merge. "Uhh, Rhodey, how fast can you get to New York?'

"Three hours if it's an emergency, Tones," Rhodey said. "Why?"

"Okay, so, I need you to leave right now, and—"

"Tony!" Pepper exclaimed. "What has happened? Where's Steve, I thought it was your anniversary dinner tonight?"

"It—it was, but—"

"Tony?" Sam said grimly. "Where's Steve?"

_No! _Tony immediately thought. _If I say it out loud, that means it's true!_

"Tony, where's Steve?" Sam said again.

"He's—he's," he stammered, gritting his teeth as he rounded a corner.

"He's been arrested," he finally said. "HYDRA's got him."

* * *

_**Happy Holidays to everyone who celebrates!**_

_**And don't forget to leave me a review! Only three, maybe four chapters are left! :)**_


	16. Chapter 16

"Pardon me, Master Peter, but Miss Stacy is on the line again," JARVIS said gently. "And she sounds quite upset."

Peter groaned as he rolled over on his bed, clutching his polar bear to his chest. He had already ghosted Gwen three times already that day, and while he realised that it was probably very rude of him, he didn't really much care at the moment.

_How could Papa do that? How could he just let them take him away from us without a fight?_

And right on the heels of those thoughts came the guilt. Peter had been planning on sitting his dads down the day after their anniversary dinner—that day—to tell them about the HYDRA files that he'd decoded. He had been hoping that they both would've been in a good enough mood to appreciate what he had done without getting too upset about the fact that he'd done all of it behind their backs.

But now it all seemed like a moot point.

He glanced at his clock, letting out another groan when he saw that it was already after 3pm. Through his slightly cracked door he could hear Uncle James talking to someone in the living room, and he knew Dad was in his lab, no doubt talking to one of his army of lawyers to try and figure out some legal loophole that would force HYDRA to release Papa back to them.

Even though Peter highly doubted that he would find one. This was HYDRA. They had practically invented loopholes, plus they had the President, most of the Senate, and at least some of the FBI on their side.

And that probably wasn't even all of them.

"What does she want, JARVIS?" he asked, trying to push himself up with his numb arms. He hadn't slept at all the night before, trying to give Dad as much support as possible and too wracked with guilt to sleep even if he'd wanted to.

"Miss Stacy has not given a specific reason for her call, Master Peter, but I would assume that she is merely concerned for your welfare," JARVIS said. "She does sound quite worried."

"Yeah, probably," Peter muttered as he flopped over again, facing the ceiling.

_Lying on his enlistment forms,_ he thought bitterly. _That's so low, even for HYDRA!_

"Shall I inform Miss Stacy that you will speak to her later?" asked JARVIS. "Again?"

"No, I can talk to her," Peter said with a sigh. "Can you put her through to my tablet, please?"

"Peter!" Gwen exclaimed as soon as her face appeared on the screen. "Oh my God, are you okay? My dad saw what happened on the news and at first we didn't want to believe it, but—"

"Wait, it was already on the news?" Peter hadn't turned on the TV at all since Dad had gotten home the night before, but if the news was already reporting it then it was likely that the entire world had already heard about it, which meant there was probably an entire army of reporters camped down at the base of the Tower, waiting for a statement.

"Yeah," Gwen said grimly. "Both last night and this morning."

Peter shook his head, his curls flopping down over his forehead. "What are they saying?"

Gwen pursed her lips, yanking hard on her blonde ponytail. "It's probably better if I don't tell you."

"Geez, that bad, huh?" Peter muttered. "Whatever happened to 'everyone loves the Avengers'?"

"Most people do love the Avengers, Peter, just not the people doing the actual reporting," said Gwen. She leaned closer to her screen, lowering her voice. "And you know that control of the media is one of the main tenets of facism."

"Yeah, I know. I guess I was just kinda hoping that it hadn't gotten to that point yet." If HYDRA was already trying to smear Papa in the news then that could only mean that they were starting to move to the next phase of their plan, which likely included total or almost total control of the media.

Which meant that the military would probably be next.

A hard shiver raced down Peter's spine at the thought of the entirety of the United States Armed Forces under the control of HYDRA, and especially if supplied with weapons made from stolen Chitauri artefacts. Peter had looked through one of Dad's secured catalogs way back when he first started running the Department of Damage Control, and the sheer amount of stuff in there had raised his eyebrows. Power cores, practically indestructible metals, flying snowmobile-like contraptions, staff pulse weapons that reminded him of Teal'c's staff in Stargate SG1; there really was no limit to what HYDRA could do with the tech, especially in the hands of a brilliant engineer and a wealthy weapons' manufacturer, both of whom had massive bones to pick with Tony Stark.

"You know not everyone believes it though, right?" said Gwen. "You should've heard my father ranting when he saw the first news story. It really wasn't pretty."

"Mmm," Peter grumbled as he ran a hand through his hair. _Then where was he when my papa was getting arrested for something that happened back in 1942?_

"Um, did you need something, Gwen?" he asked. "'Cause I'm not really in the mood for talking, so—"

"Well, no, nothing specific. I just wanted to check on you," Gwen said, a bit shortly. "I was worried, you weren't answering my calls."

More guilt welled up in Peter's chest, and he mentally kicked himself for being such a jerk. It wasn't Gwen's fault that everything was going to hell.

"Look, I'm sorry, okay? I wasn't trying to be mean, I'm just…"

_I'm just mad, and feeling guilty, and worried about Dad, and worried about Papa, and mad, and—_

"It's okay, Peter, I understand," said Gwen. "Or, at least I'm trying to understand."

Peter gave a short nod. "Thanks."

"Do you think you'll be in school tomorrow?"

"Definitely," Peter answered, even though he had no idea if Dad would let him go or not. "There's no way I'm gonna just sit home and cry. That'd be like letting them win."

"Well, yeah, but I didn't know if your dad thought it would be safe for you to leave the Tower," Gwen said. "Although if you want, I'm sure my dad wouldn't mind coming to pick you up."

"No," Peter said firmly. "I mean, thanks, but no. I'm not—I don't want HYDRA to think that I'm afraid of them."

"Mmm, okay," Gwen said warily. "But you'll let me know if you change your mind, right?"

"Yeah, I will."

"And do you still think you'll be able to go on the Decathlon trip? I mean, the competition is in just over a week, so—"

"Absolutely. There's no way that I'm missing it." Peter made a mental note to be sure and pack at least three sets of web shooters, just in case.

"Okay," said Gwen. "Well… will you call me if you find anything out? Please? It's not just me, my parents are worried too."

"Yeah, I'll try and call tonight no matter what, okay? If I can't, I'll just see you in school tomorrow."

"All right." Gwen gave her ponytail another tug, her pretty green eyes sad and worried. "Just remember that you're not alone, okay? There's a lot of people who care about you."

"Thanks, Gwen," Peter said softly. "I mean it. I'll talk to you later, okay?"

"Okay."

As soon as Gwen clicked off Peter flopped back onto the bed, eyeing the two laptops stacked on his bedside table. He had been debating for most of the day on whether or not to tell Dad about the HYDRA files, trying to decide if it would actually do any good or just make Dad even more stressed. The guilt was eating away at him so badly that it was almost crippling, but Peter knew he had no right to be selfish at the moment.

Not when Papa's life was at stake.

Dad had tried calling the phone number given to him by the FBI agent who'd arrested Papa as soon as he had gotten home the night before, which turned out to be nothing but an operator at an answering service who promised Dad that they would "pass along the message as soon as regular business hours resumed" on Monday.

Which Peter and Dad both knew was just a bunch of HYDRA bullshit.

And, which also meant that Dad had no idea where they'd taken Papa or what they were going to do with him. An attempt to trace the licence plate of the agents' car had led to a dead end, and there was no way for JARVIS to trace the location of the answering service either, as the phone number was being routed through about a zillion different relays. JARVIS was working on it, of course, but since HYDRA was likely changing the relay locations on a real-time basis it probably would turn out to be just another dead end.

With a heavy sigh, Peter pushed himself up off the bed and got to his feet. He hadn't eaten anything for over three hours, trying to ignore his grumbling stomach because he could barely bring himself to step foot inside the kitchen. But he was already starting to get the shakes from low blood sugar, and the last thing Dad needed at the moment was for Peter to pass out because he'd been too stubborn to eat.

"No, no, no!" Uncle James was saying as Peter stepped into the hallway. "That's not at all what I'm saying, sir! I'm only asking that someone from the JAG's office look into what the statute of limitations would be in a case like this!"

There was a pause as whoever Uncle James was talking to responded, too quietly for Peter to hear.

"Yes, sir, I understand that this is a pretty unique case, but—no, sir, I don't believe at all that Captain Rogers' intentions were hostile—yes, sir, I know that, but this happened almost seventy years ago, which is why I believe that the statute of limitations—yes—yes, sir. I understand, sir, thank you for your time."

With a muttered curse, Uncle James tossed his phone aside and leaned back on the couch, scrubbing at his eyes with his palm. He gave a start as he noticed Peter, his expression instantly morphing from frustration to sympathy.

"Hey, kiddo, you doing okay? No, wait, don't answer that," he added before Peter could even open his mouth. "Sorry. Stupid question."

"It's okay," Peter said in a small voice. He flopped down into the squashy armchair opposite the couch. "I take it there hasn't been any good news?"

"Not exactly," Uncle James said with a huff. "Nat and Clint have been going round and round with Fury all day, but Fury's not exactly the darling of D.C. anymore so they're not sure how far that'll get 'em, and I've been trying to get through to someone at the Judge Advocate General's office, but since it's a Sunday there's no one around the place that can actually do any good, and the one person I have managed to talk to doesn't even think that they can help because he says that Steve's technically no longer a member of the military."

"Uhh, well… is he?" asked Peter. "I mean, I know he was before he crashed into the ice, so—"

"He never officially retired or was discharged, so in my opinion he's still a member of the Army," Uncle James said. "He was just missing in action until SHIELD found him in the ice."

"But I take it the JAG office doesn't see it that way?" Peter asked.

"They don't know how to see it," grumbled Uncle James. "No one knows how to goddamn see it, that's the problem. And I can't get anyone who'd actually know anything off of their goddamn golf courses long enough to come to the phone!"

Tears stung Peter's dry, scratchy eyes as he swallowed hard, trying to hold himself together. "But even if you could talk to someone in charge, are you sure you could even trust them?" he asked. "I mean, Dad's known the guy who took Papa away since he was my age, so—"

"No, kiddo, I'm not a hundred percent sure that I can," said Uncle James. "But we gotta exhaust all of the proper channels first, ya know? 'Cause once we start going down more of the improper ones… well… it might just wind up being us against everyone else a lot sooner than we thought."

Peter bit his lip, trying desperately to keep his tears contained. "Not quite everyone. My friend, Gwen, her dad's a police officer, and she told me that he's pretty upset by all of this, so… it's not everyone."

_At least, not yet._

"Well, at least that's something," said Uncle James. He ran a palm down his face, his eyes narrowing as he looked at Peter.

"You're looking a bit peaky there, kid. Ya hungry?"

"Uh, yeah," Peter said sheepishly. "I was gonna just go and make a sandwich or something, but—"

"Nah, a sandwich won't fill you up, and I've been trying to get Tony to eat something all damn day too," Uncle James said as he got to his feet. "So why don't we go make some real food and see if we can lure your dad out of his lab for a few minutes. Okay?"

"Uh, okay."

Uncle James wasn't as good of a cook as Papa or Uncle Sam, but he was decent enough, and a half hour later, filled up on eggs and toast and bacon, Peter loaded up a tray with a full plate and a fresh cup of coffee and headed for Dad's lab.

He found Dad sitting cross-legged on the floor surrounded by about a hundred different notebooks and papers, which Peter recognised as some of Uncle Bruce's notes on the HYDRA files. DUM-E beeped a soft greeting from his perch over in the corner as Peter approached, a lot more melancholy than his usual.

"Hey Dad," Peter said softly as he set down the tray. "I, um… Uncle James and I made some food, and I thought you might want to eat something, so I brought…"

He trailed off as Dad looked up at him, starting a bit as if he'd just noticed that he was there, his eyes red-rimmed and bloodshot and so full of terror and anger that Peter had to look away, ashamed.

_I should've told them about the files a long time ago._

"Yeah, not now Pete," Dad said hoarsely, rummaging around in the mass of papers next to him. "I need to… um… I need to find—"

"Dad, please, don't you think you should eat something?" Peter asked. "You know Papa doesn't like it when—"

"Yeah, well, he's not here right now, is he!" Dad cried. He let out a sharp gasp like he was in pain, pressing his palm to his chest where Papa's dog tags were hidden underneath his shirt. "And until I can figure out exactly where those goddamn assholes have taken him, I don't see the point to—!"

"Oh my God!" Peter exclaimed, slamming his palm against his forehead so hard that he almost knocked himself over. It was one of those details that hadn't seemed so important at the time, but he still couldn't believe that he'd forgotten about it until now.

"Dad, I'm pretty sure that Papa's being held somewhere that you can only get to by helicopter."

Dad's head snapped up, his eyes narrowing at Peter. "And how exactly would you know that?"

"Uhh, from Gwen," Peter stammered, gulping. "She told me not too long after Liz's dad got arrested that her dad had a friend that worked for the FBI, and whoever it was told Mr Stacy that they were moving Mr Toomes to some facility that you could only get to with a helicopter."

For a moment Dad only stared at him, his chin trembling as about a thousand different emotions flew across his face. "And why would this so-called friend of Stacy's tell him that?" he finally asked.

"I dunno, maybe he thought it wasn't that big a deal?" said Peter. "I mean, Mr Stacy is just a regular cop, and Liz was Gwen's friend too, so maybe the FBI agent just thought he was doing Mr Stacy a favour."

"Ah huh," Dad said warily. "Except if Stacy's friend knew that information then it probably means that he's another HYDRA agent, which also means that Stacy could be a HYDRA agent, which means that—"

"No!" Peter exclaimed. "Dad, there's no way that Mr Stacy is in with HYDRA, there's no way! I swear, you have to believe me!"

"And why should I do that?" Dad demanded. "It all fits! Trying to poison you with the peppermint—"

"Dad, that was an accident, I—"

"Not calling you out when you saved him at the movie theatre," Dad continued. "Trying to butter Steve and I up, asking if we need anything and then offering to pick you up from school? It all fits, Pete!"

"No, it doesn't!" Peter yelled, startling them both enough that he nearly knocked over Dad's coffee. He got to his feet, running his fingers through his hair as he paced back and forth. "Dad, there's no way that Gwen's father is a HYDRA agent, there's just no way! I'd know it if he was!"

"And how exactly would you know it, huh?" Dad shouted. "Just because your friend Gwen is a sweetheart doesn't mean that her old man can't be an asshole!"

Peter rolled his eyes, plopping back onto the floor. "Dad, I know that. But in all the times that I've been around Mr Stacy, I've never, ever had that ice-cubes-down-my-back feeling that I always get around the bad guys. Not even once, not even when he was ranting about the Avengers the very first time that I met him. So there's no way he could be a HYDRA agent, 'cause if he was, I'd know."

Again, Dad stared at Peter for several heartbeats, finally tilting his head. "Yeah, okay, Pete," he said quietly. "I guess that Spidey Sense of yours hasn't goofed up yet, has it?"

"No, it never has," Peter said firmly. "And the first time I ever noticed it was around a HYDRA agent, remember?"

"Yeah, I remember." Dad cleared his throat, reaching tentatively for the coffee cup and taking a small sip. "Well, I guess that is pretty handy. Did Miss Stacy happen to have any other information about that place?"

Peter's shoulders sagged as he shook his head. "No, that was it. But at least we know that wherever it is has to be out in the water or something, right?"

"Eh, not necessarily, but that'd make the most sense." Dad picked up one of Uncle Bruce's notebooks, flipping through it. "We haven't found anything on possible prison facilities in any of the documents that we've decoded, but knowing HYDRA they could be hiding in any number of places." He tapped his chin, thinking. "I'll tell Clint and Nat about it, I'm sure it'd at least help them rule out a few places, but there's a lot of goddamn water on this planet, so I'm not really sure if it narrows it down all that much."

"Yeah, I guess," Peter said, trying to ignore the sharp pang of guilt that shot through him. "Is that what Uncle Bruce is doing now? Working on the files?"

"Yeah, he and Bucky are down in his lab," Dad said. He picked up a piece of bacon from the tray, breaking off a piece. "Why?"

"Just wondering," Peter said with a shrug. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

Dad shook his head as he chewed his bacon. "No, buddy, not now. I've got JARVIS still working on the tracers, Nat and Clint are busy doing their old-school spy stuff and planning raids with Sam, and Bruce is working on the files, but until we find something of actual use, I can't—I just—I'm just gonna keep digging here for awhile, and then—"

He broke off then, biting his bottom lip so hard that Peter winced. Keeping busy had always been Dad's way of dealing with loss or grief or worry or any other negative emotion because it kept his mind too occupied to dwell on things that were rotten. But as soon as he paused for more than a minute or so, that was usually when the floodgates blew open.

"They won't kill him, Dad," Peter said, trying to offer them both at least a tiny bit of reassurance. "Papa's too well-loved by too many people for them to just kill him."

"Yeah, I know he is, Pete," Dad said, his voice wobbling ever-so-slightly. "But I also know that they're not just gonna lock him away and leave him alone either. HYDRA's got almost a hundred years of pent-up anger and frustration built up, and I have a bad feeling that it's all about to be directed at him."

_Oh God, _Peter thought as his heart leapt into his throat. _Dad's right. _All of HYDRA's anger and hatred, and all of their frustration over not yet achieving their ultimate goal of control through fear, it was all about to be channeled directly at Papa.

The cracked and leaking dam that had been holding back the raging river of Peter's emotions for most of the day finally broke, and he crumpled forward, knocking the tray aside as he collapsed into his father's arms. Dad immediately pulled him close, burying his nose into Peter's hair as his entire body shook with sobs.

"Daddy, what're they gonna do to him?" Peter cried into his father's chest. "Oh God, they're gonna hurt him, aren't they? They're gonna hurt my Papa?"

"Shh, buddy, I've got you," Dad murmured as he ran his fingers through Peter's hair. "I'm not gonna lie to you and say that everything's gonna be fine, 'cause those HYDRA creeps are a bunch of pretty sadistic motherfuckers, but I also know that there's no way in hell that Papa's just gonna sit there and take it either."

"So you think he'll fight back?"

"You're damn right he will," said Dad. "Papa never backs down from a fight, you know that. And from what Bucky's told me, he's been that way since he was younger than you."

A small laugh tore from Peter's throat. "Yeah, they've both told me a few stories."

_But according to Uncle Bucky, Papa would've been dead a hundred times over if it wasn't for him, and now—_

_Now he's all alone._

More tears poured down Peter's cheeks as he clung to his father, his mind racing with all the horrible ways that HYDRA could make his papa suffer for trying to destroy them.

And right on its heels, all the ways that he could make HYDRA pay for all of the pain and suffering they had caused his family, if he was just able to figure out where they'd taken Papa.

_I have to be able to do something!_

"I still want to go to school tomorrow, though," Peter said once he was able to pull himself together. "I don't want the bad guys thinking that they've won. I don't—I don't want to give them the satisfaction."

Dad hugged Peter even tighter, planting a kiss on the top of his head. "If you're sure that you won't be too scared, then I guess you can go. I'll make sure that Happy's got the guards in place."

"I'm not gonna be scared," Peter said, rather petulantly. "I'm not scared of bullies, Dad. Not even HYDRA ones."

"Mmm. Well, I'm still gonna have Happy double the number of guards around the school, and if there's anyone there that you see that you don't know, any substitute teachers, any new staff members or students, anything at all, I want you call me right away so I can come and get you. Understand?"

"I understand. And the same with the Decathlon trip?"

"Yeah, I guess so," Dad said with a heavy sigh. "I've made sure the range on the drones down there is long enough to target the competition site, so… we'll just have to make sure that there's enough security inside the building."

"And Mr Stacy will be there too, don't forget," Peter said. "I'm sure he'll be keeping his eyes open."

"Yeah, I'm sure." Dad cupped Peter's cheeks in his hands, brushing his tears away with his thumbs. "We're gonna get him back, Pete, I _promise_ you_._ And once we do, we're gonna kick HYDRA's ass so hard that they'll regret ever trying to hook their claws into any of us. All right?"

"Uh huh," Peter whispered, blinking back more tears threatening to fall. "I know we will."

"All right. Why don't you go and work on your homework now, yeah?"

"Uh huh," Peter said with a sniff. "Just, don't forget to eat, okay? Please?"

_You know Papa would want you to take care of yourself._

"Don't worry about me, Pete," Dad said with a dismissive wave. "I'll be fine."

"Yeah, sure," Peter muttered. "I'll come back in here when I'm done, see if you need anything else."

"Thanks, buddy."

Uncle James was on another phone call when Peter got back to the living room, so he just gave him a quick wave and headed back to his bedroom, not really wanting him to see that he'd been crying.

"I'm gonna figure out where they took Papa," Peter said, grabbing his laptops. He quickly pulled up the HYDRA files, selecting the next in line. "And the sooner the better."

Because while Dad was probably right that they wouldn't kill Papa, Peter had no doubt that HYDRA was pissed off enough at him that they would do everything in their power to try and break him.

Which to Papa, would probably be even worse.

* * *

Steve was _cold._

And not just the chilly kind of cold, the kind that would prompt him to put on a sweatshirt or jacket, or cuddle up with Tony under a blanket.

No, this was the bone-chilling kind.

The kind that used to seep through the thin walls of his ma's house during the bitter Brooklyn winters, burrowing through multiple layers of clothing to settle deep into his bones. The kind that made his shoulders turn in and his teeth clench.

The kind that he'd experienced in the throes of his highest childhood fevers, and when he had been pulled into the ice.

Both times.

The second thing that he noticed—or was it actually the first? He couldn't quite tell—was the _pain._

Searing, piercing, throbbing pain, burning across every single nerve fibre in his body and intensified by the faint but piercing constant noise being piped through the speakers mounted in the upper corners of his cell. Even the slight movement of regaining consciousness had been enough to send hot flashes of pain shooting across Steve's body like a million bayonets stabbing him from all directions. His head was pounding like someone was driving into his temple with a jackhammer, his chest crackled and protested with every single shallow inhale, and he was pretty sure that at least a few of the bones in his left foot were broken, if the throbbing keeping time with his heartbeat was any indication.

With a choked gasp Steve shifted slightly, trying to manoeuvre just enough to get his hand underneath him so he could push his upper body up off of the freezing cold concrete floor.

They had taken his clothes sometime between being shoved into the backseat of Agent Bartlett's car and his arrival at… wherever he was, leaving him dressed only in a paper-thin t-shirt and pants. The car had barely cleared the parking garage when the agent sitting next to him jabbed him in the neck with a needle the size of a straw, pulling a cloth bag over his head as he lost consciousness. Steve grimaced as he gingerly touched the puncture site, hot and tender under his fingertips. Whatever it was they had shot into him had burned something fierce going in, which led Steve to think it was the same drug that Killian and Stane had given him down at the Miami bunker.

Which likely meant that they were trying to mess with his memories again, and that he really had no idea how long it had been since he had been taken.

_As long as they don't make me think that Tony is dead again,_ Steve thought, squeezing his eyes closed as another starburst of pain shot up his left leg to his knee. His foot felt like it had been stomped on by something heavy and metal, which didn't make too much sense since he couldn't remember encountering anything metal that could take steps, but given that this was HYDRA, Steve wasn't putting anything past them.

Finally in a semi-upright position, Steve ran his tongue across his dry and cracked lips and tipped his head back against the cement-block wall, trying to keep his thoughts from wandering to Tony and Peter and managing to think of nothing else. Worry for his husband and son gnawed at him, consuming him from the inside, magnifying the pain coursing through his body to almost unthinkable levels.

_Please let them be safe!_

With any luck Peter was already situated on Asgard, but knowing Tony, he was probably holed up in his lab, running himself ragged with trying to find him. Tears stung Steve's eyes as he imagined his beloved husband going mad with worry, refusing to eat or sleep and snapping at anyone who attempted to help him.

It was how Tony had been when they first came back from Afghanistan, consumed with plans of revenge against the Ten Rings. Steve remembered vividly the night that he ventured down into Tony's workshop at the Malibu house and found him hovering a metre above the floor, testing the latest design of his flying boots. Tony had missed dinner that evening so Steve had brought him some food, and somehow over the course of their ensuing conversation Tony had ended up firing his palm repulsor off to the side of him, triggering a whole cascade of repressed memories of fighting against the HYDRA regiments during the war.

That had also been the first time that Tony had shown his tender, nurturing side with Steve, which Steve had already seen him demonstrate in spades with Peter.

_Please, let them be safe!_

As long as he could believe that Tony and Peter were okay, Steve knew he could handle anything that HYDRA wanted to throw at him.

An indeterminable amount of time passed. With no windows in his cell Steve had no idea if it was day or night, only adding to his overall disconcertedness. He made an attempt to use his heart rate and respiratory rate as a way of keeping time, but quickly realised that his mind was so muddled from pain, hunger, and dehydration that he couldn't seem to count to anything higher than twenty without dozing off into a sort of semi-sleep, snapping awake again every time the pain crescendoed.

And if he wasn't going crazy, which he knew was entirely possible, he could've sworn that the high-pitched piercing noise was getting louder.

It was so gradual that he must have just dismissed it at the time, but now that he thought about it, it was definitely louder than it had been when he'd first noticed it, slicing through the blood rushing past his ears straight into his pain centre.

Slowly, Steve curled his shoulders forward, drawing his knees up to his chest and clamping his palms over his ears, trying to drown out the sound that was now too loud to ignore. He squeezed his eyes closed, fighting against the increasing urge to scream.

_I can't let them see any weakness!_

There were plenty of men who had endured being held prisoner during the war, and if they could survive it, then so could he.

_I am Steven Grant Rogers, born July the fourth, nineteen hundred and eighteen. Son of Joseph and Sarah Rogers, husband of Tony Stark, father of Peter Stark-Rogers._

_Leader of the Avengers._

_I can't forget who I am._

He managed to doze off three or four more times, eventually being startled awake by a loud _clank_ followed directly by a nearly blinding overhead light and two sets of footsteps walking towards his cell, one heavy and one lighter.

"Well, well, well. It's nice to finally meet you, Captain Rogers," said an older, grey-haired man wearing a white lab coat as he and a young woman with long red hair arrived outside the transparent window of Steve's cell. While three entire walls of the barely five metre by five metre cell were composed of solid concrete at least a metre thick, the entire front appeared to be a window. But despite its glass-like appearance, it was clearly made from a material that was not glass, as Steve was pretty sure that he had busted a couple of knuckles the one time he had attempted to punch through it.

When Steve didn't answer the man stepped closer, giving the window a sharp rap. "Now, Captain, you of all people should know that it's impolite to not acknowledge someone who is speaking to you."

Breathing in through his nose, Steve looked directly at the man, hoping his eyes could convey even a fraction of the contempt he was feeling.

"Who are you?" he said in his Captain's voice, or at least what was passing for his Captain's voice with a tongue that weighed a hundred kilograms and a mouth that felt like it had been coated with a thick layer of rock salt.

"You can call me Doctor List, Captain," the man said, far more politely than Steve would expect from an agent of HYDRA. The man gave a slight bow, placing his hand on the middle of the young woman's back. "And this is one of my colleagues, Ms Wanda Maximoff."

Steve blinked, searching through his foggy brain for any previous reference to a Doctor List or a Wanda Maximoff, and coming up empty.

"Why am I here?"

Doctor List's eyes crinkled as he smirked. "I have been very eager to meet you for quite a long time, Captain, as I'm sure you can imagine." He stepped even closer, placing his palms against the window. "I have studied the work of Abraham Erskine for most of my life, but unfortunately I have never quite been able to replicate the miracle that he created in you. And as a scientist, this was immensely frustrating for me."

"Which is exactly how he would've wanted it," Steve rasped. "Dr Erskine knew what would happen if HYDRA ever got their hands on his formula, which is why I made sure that they never did. And no one's been able to replicate his work since."

"At least not yet, Captain," said Doctor List. "However, now that you have come to stay with us for awhile, I am hopeful that we have finally reached the end of our failures."

"_We have finally reached the end of our failures."_

The doctor's words reverberated inside Steve's throbbing head, and he dropped his chin to his chest, pressing his palms against his temples. He couldn't tell if the doctor didn't know about Peter's extraordinary genetic makeup or if he was just not mentioning it, but in that moment nothing terrified Steve more than the thought of Peter sitting in one of these cells instead of him.

_I don't care what they do to me, as long as they leave Peter alone._

"You haven't answered me," Steve said as he raised his head again. "_Why_ am I here?"

But Doctor List only smiled, a wide, leering smile as he nodded towards the young woman, who the whole time had been standing as still as a statue, her face completely blank.

"You know what to do, my dear."

The young woman—Wanda, the doctor had called her, who didn't look much older than Peter—gave a nod, stepping back as Doctor List took a slim metal device from his pocket and touched it to the window, opening a hole just large enough for Wanda's hand to slip through.

And then before Steve could react, there was a flash of bright red light and suddenly Peter was there, dressed in all black and looking down at him with such malice in his big brown eyes that Steve's heart literally skipped a beat.

"Peter!" Steve shrieked, immediately clutching his sore chest. "Oh God, Peter, are you all right? Where's Dad, little guy, why aren't you with him?"

But Peter only shook his head, his eyes narrowing even further as he grabbed Steve by the scruff of his ragged t-shirt, yanking him to his feet and slamming him up against the back wall. A sharp cry tore from Steve's jagged throat as he landed on his injured foot, and he bit down hard on his bottom lip as he struggled to meet his son's eyes.

"Peter, where's Dad?" he asked. "Why aren't you with him?"

Again, Peter shook his head, grabbing onto Steve's right arm and yanking it forward as Doctor List stepped inside the cell, a long silver syringe in his hand.

"No!" Steve yelled as Doctor List stabbed him with the syringe, still struggling against Peter's ironclad grip as he tried to meet his son's eyes. "Oh God, what did you do to him? What did you do to my son?"

"Not to worry, Captain," said Doctor List as he withdrew the syringe, now filled with Steve's blood. "Your son will be treated very well."

Panic washed over Steve like a tsunami, stealing all the air from his lungs. If HYDRA had already managed to capture Peter, then that probably meant they had Tony as well, and then—

_Oh God, no! Please, no!_

"Peter!" Steve cried. "Little guy, you have to listen to me! These people are going to hurt you, you have to find Dad and get away from here!"

There was a pause as Peter slowly turned his head, his eyes locking with Steve's, blank as an untouched canvas as he leaned in nose to nose.

"Who the hell is Peter?"

"No!" Steve choked on a gasp as Peter released his grip and he fell into a crumpled heap on the freezing cold floor. He immediately reached for his left foot, cradling it as Doctor List and Wanda turned and walked away, their footsteps echoing in time with his panicked cries.

"Please, don't hurt him! Please don't hurt my son!"

But the only reply was the slam of the heavy metal door.

"Oh God, _no!"_

Steve's chest was so rigid and tight that he could barely draw in air, pulling memories of his severe childhood asthma attacks from deep within the recesses of his mind and slamming them to the surface. The sensation of being unable to breathe had never failed to cause Steve to panic, but this time he couldn't blame the lung disease he had suffered with for the first twenty-four years of his life, or the fact that he was drowning.

This time, he could only blame himself.

Wrapping his arms around his front, Steve slammed the back of his head into the wall, trying to knock himself out. But like a cruel joke, all he managed to do was magnify the pounding in his head to an even more unbearable level.

_This is all my fault! I failed him, and now they've—oh God, now they're gonna—!_

He couldn't even bring himself to finish the thought.

The fact that Peter seemed to have magically disappeared as soon as Doctor List and Wanda left his cell only served to prove that the edges of Steve's sanity were being slowly chipped away, leaving nothing but his demons behind.

And now those demons were out for blood.

* * *

"That was very impressive, Mr Stark-Rogers, thank you!" exclaimed the lead judge as Peter concluded his three-minute unprepared speech. By sheer dumb luck the topic Peter had been given was the history of asthma treatments, which, thanks to his papa and his own experience with the disease as a young child, Peter was practically an expert on. Tony watched proudly behind his sunglasses as the entire audience applauded his sweet boy, a wide smile stretching across his lips almost against his will.

It was the first time that he'd managed a smile since HYDRA had ripped Steve from his arms more than a week ago.

Nine days, to be exact.

Nine days of going round and round with more lawyers, government officials, military officials, and reporters than Tony ever cared to know existed, all while trying to subsist on less than a handful of hours of sleep and trying to keep a semi-brave face for Peter, his brave boy who was so worried sick for his papa that he could barely function, but could still deliver a three-minute off-the-cuff competition speech that knocked the socks off of every single judge _and_ the opposing team.

And the worst part of it was, Tony still had no idea where HYDRA had taken Steve, or even if he was still alive. _No, no, he's alive! I have to believe that he's alive!_ None of the leads that he and Bruce had managed to find in the HYDRA documents had amounted to anything, and while Natasha and Clint were already planning raids on a few newly uncovered coastal HYDRA strongholds, Tony wasn't holding out much hope that Steve would be found in any of them.

Knowing HYDRA, they had been planning on nabbing Steve for a long, long time, and so would likely keep him hidden somewhere that wasn't already documented.

"Way to go, kiddo!" Sam called from Tony's right as Peter retook his seat with the rest of his team. He leaned in, giving Tony a gentle nudge with his elbow. "That kid of yours is pretty incredible, Tony."

"Yeah, I know it," Tony said softly, biting his bottom lip to keep it from shaking.

_Steve should be here._

As they had originally planned, the entire team was in D.C. with Tony to watch Peter's competition. Even Bucky had made the trip, keeping as incognito as possible with sunglasses, a baseball cap, and an oversized hoodie covering his metal arm.

Although at this point, Tony was almost positive that HYDRA was already aware of Bucky's existence and was just choosing to ignore him. After all, what was a former brainwashed assassin to them now that they had finally captured their legendary enemy Captain America.

The fact that Captain America was also Tony's husband and Peter's papa didn't matter to them at all, because why should they care about breaking up a family when they had their whole global-domination evil agenda to push?

A few rows in front of Tony sat George Stacy, his wife, and their three boys, who had all expressed their profound sympathies before the start of the competition, with Stacy reaffirming his desire to help in any way possible multiple times. Tony had managed to be polite while he thanked him, a feat that had required a lot more energy on his part than it probably should have. Even though he had finally let go of the notion that Stacy was a HYDRA agent, Tony still didn't trust the man.

Very few people had ever offered anything to Tony without an ulterior motive, and despite the reassurance from Peter's Spider Sense, George Stacy was not yet on the list of people that Tony could trust without reservation.

The prepared speeches were next—in which Peter gave a daring and brave speech comparing the rise of modern terrorism to cancer that earned him a standing ovation from not only the entire audience but also the opposing team—followed by the Super Quiz round, which Tony knew was Peter's favourite part of the competition.

And in true Midtown fashion, their team didn't miss a single one of their questions, earning them the National Championship and several ear-splitting whistles from Sam Wilson.

They celebrated with plenty of pizza, Dr Pepper, and obnoxious music once everyone was safely back in the Stark Industries building. Tony hung back from most of the festivities, trying to keep an eye on Peter without making it seem too obvious. For his part, Peter did pretty well, managing to maintain his brave face for almost an hour before Tony noticed Gwen Stacy taking him by the hand and exiting the boisterous room, heading down a quieter hallway where Peter immediately started to cry.

"It's just not fair!" Peter sobbed, curled into a tight ball on the floor while Gwen rubbed his shoulder. "He should be here, and they just took him away from us!"

"No, it's not fair," Gwen murmured, and a lump rose in Tony's throat at her tone, sweet and kind with absolutely none of the judgement that Peter had faced from a few of his other classmates. "And it doesn't mean that you're weak if you're upset about it either."

"I know," Peter said, sniffing. "It's just… I just feel—"

"You feel helpless," Gwen cut in. "And that's totally normal too, and anyone who thinks otherwise is just a big jerk."

Which just happened to be the same thing that he had told Peter as well, but like Sam liked to say, sometimes Peter needed to hear things from someone other than his dads for it to completely sink in.

_Teenagers._

They flew back to New York the following day, with Natasha graciously saving Tony when Mr Harrington asked to sit next to him on the plane. The last thing Tony needed was to have the final remaining threads of his patience completely shredded by Peter's dorky Decathlon coach talking at him the entire flight home.

He was up to his eyeballs in decoded files and new suit schematics when Peter suddenly walked into the lab, exhausted and disheveled, his pale cheeks lined with tears.

"Pete? Buddy, tell me what's wrong," Tony said as shot to his feet, with Peter practically collapsing into his arms. He tucked his boy's head under his chin, his entire skinny body shaking so badly that he couldn't even seem to form words.

"Daddy, I can't—we can't—they've—it's just—we'll never be able to—and it's all my fault!"

"Shh, buddy, it's gonna be okay," Tony murmured as he carefully guided them over to the couch, whispering reassurances into Peter's curls while he cried himself out.

"But it's not okay!" Peter rasped against Tony's soaking wet chest. "Daddy, I was just—I only wanted to help, but now—we're not—we're not ever gonna—!"

"Pete, it was just a bad dream, yeah?" Tony said, stroking Peter's hair. "Whatever you saw, it wasn't real, buddy."

"No, Dad, it wasn't a nightmare, 'cause I wasn't asleep," insisted Peter. "I was—I was—" He lifted his head, his brown eyes red and swollen and his round cheeks lined with tear tracks. "I've—I've gotta tell you something, and I don't think you're gonna like it."

Something about the tone of Peter's voice caused Tony's blood to run cold, and he gulped, brushing Peter's matted curls off his forehead.

"Uh, okay buddy. Why don't you just start at the beginning then, yeah?"

Peter nodded miserably, his hands twisting in his lap as he proceeded to tell Tony that he had been secretly decoding their HYDRA files in his room at night ever since he had discovered the bill containing the Registration Act. It was all Tony could do to stay quiet while Peter explained what he had uncovered, his fingers wrapped so tightly around his left forearm that he could feel bruises forming.

_We tried so hard to protect him, but he managed to get right into the middle of it anyway, just like he always does._

_I should've seen this coming. Why didn't I see this coming?_

"So that's why I think we need to move the sceptre," Peter said, finally pausing to take a breath. "'Cause I'm thinking that one of these semi-enhanced people can run really, really fast and was trying to steal it when the drone fired at up at the Compound, so—"

"Pete, we've already moved the sceptre," Tony said quietly, once he was able to find his voice again. "That's the reason why we didn't come home right away, okay? It's not at the Compound anymore."

Peter blinked, swallowing hard. "Uhh, well, that's good, but now—"

"Pete, just stop right there, okay? Just… give me a second." Tony sucked in a deep breath, uncurling his fingers from his arm as he tried to figure out how he was supposed to react. Peter had deliberately gone behind he and Steve's backs and messed around with stuff that he had no business messing with, but at the same time he had uncovered some pretty important information about what HYDRA had been trying to accomplish, so while Tony knew that he should punish him, he was honestly so fried at the moment that he could barely think.

"No, Dad, you don't understand! I need—"

"No, what you need, _Peter,_ is to go back to bed!" Tony snapped, his temper finally getting the better of him. "And I mean actually go to sleep, not go poking your nose where it doesn't belong. _Again."_

"But—!"

"I said, _now!"_ yelled Tony, his heart lurching when Peter flinched and clapped his hands over his ears. He immediately reached for him, tucking him against his chest. "I'm sorry, bud. I just—" He broke off, unable to finish the sentence.

_I just miss him so damn much that I think I'm going crazy._

"I know, Dad. I miss him too," Peter murmured as more tears leaked from beneath his closed eyelids. "But that's what I've been trying to tell you. What I found tonight… it's—it's pretty bad, and now… now I don't know if we'll ever be able to find Papa."

Pain pierced Tony's chest with an intensity that he hadn't felt since his open-heart surgery in the freezing Afghanistan cave.

"Pete," he said, bracing himself as best as he could. "What did you find?"

Peter pulled back, his lower lip shaking. "One of the files that I decoded tonight, it was talking about the same kind of technology that the old SHIELD helicarriers had, the retro-reflective panels? Well, I thought that kind of tech could only be used for planes and other stuff that can fly, but now—now it seems like HYDRA's figured out how to use it to cloak a building, and—"

Tony gasped, his blood pressure plummeting so fast that he felt woozy, and he grabbed onto the back of the couch, trying to keep himself upright.

_Oh no. Oh no, no, no, no!_

"So, what you're saying is that HYDRA's probably got Papa in a building that's pretty much invisible?"

"Yeah," Peter said somberly. "That's exactly what I'm saying."

* * *

A loud _rap _on the window of his cell startled Steve awake, and he groaned, slowly peeling his eyes open and shielding them against the harsh white light as the silhouette of a bespectacled brown-haired man dressed in a very expensive suit came into focus.

"Oh, Captain, did I wake you?" the man asked. "I am so, so sorry about that."

Steve grunted as he pushed himself up to a sitting position, his swollen right hand pressed against the broken ribs on his left side and his teeth tightly clenched against the pain shooting through his body like a million bolts of lightning.

He felt like he had just lost a really brutal fight, but he couldn't remember throwing a single punch. His entire aching body was covered with various cuts, scrapes, and bruises, his head felt like it'd been filled with quicksand, and he couldn't remember the last time he'd had anything to eat or drink.

Actually, he couldn't seem to remember anything that had happened since he'd been tossed into that cell. There were flashes sometimes, flickering images of being attacked and trying to fight back alternating with overwhelming feelings of terror and helplessness, but the constant pain in his body and the worry over his husband and son were enough to make even those brief moments of clarity fade almost as soon as they appeared.

"Somehow I doubt it," he managed to croak past his parched throat. He blinked his swollen eyes, his jaw tightening even more as he recognised the man as Justin Hammer.

"Oh now, Captain, or may I call you, Steven?" said Hammer. "I actually think that's more appropriate given the current charges levied against you, don't you?"

Steve breathed in a shaky breath, his hands clenching into painful fists at his sides. Only his ma had ever called him Steven on a regular basis, and to hear this vile, treasonous, scum of a man use that name—

Which was likely the very reason why he did it.

_Don't give them what they want._

"That charge was just the excuse you people used to get me," Steve said, his injured ribs protesting his vehemence. "Now, what the hell do you want?"

Hammer clicked his tongue as he shook his head. "Now, now, Steven, where are those legendary Depression-era manners that I've heard so much about, hmm? I have to say, you are really disappointing me!"

Steve didn't even justify that statement with a reply, choosing to simply glare at the man until he shifted on his feet.

"Well, I suppose that we can always work on your manners later," Hammer finally said. "Because you see, today is a very important day. The latest prototype of our new design is finally ready for testing, and I'm so excited that I can hardly contain myself! To see one of my own prototypes going up against the legendary Steven Grant Rogers, well, let me just say, I had to take a moment to collect myself before coming in here."

"I highly doubt that any design of yours is actually yours," Steve said. "Since we found evidence that you've been stealing from Tony's company for years."

"Tony? Who's Tony?" said Hammer. "Oh, do you mean Anthony? As in Stark? As in Stark Industries? Well, if that's indeed who you're referring to, as far as I'm aware Anthony Stark doesn't even run Stark Industries anymore, isn't that true?" Hammer heaved a heavy sigh, his lips pursed in indignation. "And I'll bet that poor Howard is rolling over in his grave as we speak because of it. To turn the company that he built with his own sweat and tears over to someone who's not even in the family, and essentially stealing it from his own grandson, no less? I mean, that poor kid! If that'd been my father, I would've been absolutely furious! Just livid!"

"Don't you _dare _mention my husband or my son around me," Steve spat out, his injured ribs protesting his vehemence. "They are both a million times better men that you'll ever hope to be, so you just keep their names out of your filthy mouth, _Mister _Hammer."

Hammer's head snapped back in surprise, his eyes going wide as he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

"Well, I guess you're not much for pleasantries today, are you, Steven? Well, okay, I'll try not to take it too personally. We can just get started then, since you seem like you're just raring to go." He glanced down the hallway, nodding at someone out of Steve's eyeline. "You can come on down, sweetheart, I guess we're ready for you."

Light footsteps sounded on the concrete floor and a young woman with long red hair appeared, stopping next to Hammer. Her face was completely blank, her eyes staring straight ahead like a doll, and for some reason she looked very, very familiar.

_Wanda,_ Steve thought, pulling the name from the far edges of his pain-muddled mind. _Her name is Wanda._

Steve knew that the HYDRA agents were tampering with his memory—probably with the very same drug that Obadiah Stane had used on Peter in Afghanistan—which was why he couldn't remember how he managed to get so badly injured. He only knew that he had been forced to repeatedly fight against something strong, manoeuvrable, and metal, and more than once if his barely-healed crushed left foot was any indication, but other than that it was only a blur of swinging fists, landed blows, and a whole lot of noise.

"Now, Steven, you do at least know that it's polite to stand up when a lady enters the room, right?" said Hammer. He stepped forward, slamming against the window with his palm and sending more shockwaves of pain down Steve's spine. "So on your feet, _sir_!"

With an effort that could only be described as monumental, Steve pulled himself up to his feet, favouring his injured foot as he tried to stand as straight as possible. It was then that he happened to notice that he was dressed in some sort of uniform, complete with boots, fingerless gloves, and a cowl resting on the floor against the wall. Obviously modelled after his own Captain America uniforms, it was dark blue, battered and battle-worn, with a massive HYDRA crest across the chestplate and smaller crests on the outside of his arms, where his Avengers 'A' should've been.

The sight of that hateful symbol stretched across his own chest would've been enough to make him vomit, if he'd actually had anything in his stomach.

"What did you do to me?" Steve whispered, barely catching himself on the wall before he tipped over. Panic welled inside him as he clawed at his sleeve with his fingers, trying to scratch away the vile symbol. "I will never become one of you!"

Hammer just rolled his eyes, jerking his head towards Wanda. "This is getting pretty boring, don't you think? So do you mind giving him a zap so we can get started, my dear?"

A flash of red light suddenly lit up the cell, and Steve felt his hand forcibly move back to his side and his heels snap to attention, the rest of his body pinned in place by some kind of invisible energy force.

"Oh, that's so much better, thank you!" exclaimed Hammer with a flourish, almost as though he was speaking to an audience. "Now then, as I stated, we're ready for Steven here to begin the test with the latest prototype, oh, and you're just going to _love _it! Mr Beck just finished putting the final touches on it only this morning, so why don't we get him into position, all right?"

Wanda gave a nod, twisting her arm as the window of Steve's cell disintegrated and he began to move against his will, led into a huge square area that was as big as a baseball stadium, with a ceiling at least five stories high.

_How could HYDRA hide a building as big as this? I would've found it!_

"All right, can we bring out the prototype, please?" Hammer called from a balcony somewhere behind Steve, his voice echoing against the concrete walls and ceiling. He clapped his hands, rubbing them together like an excited toddler. "Oh, this is gonna be so good, I just know it!"

There was a loud groaning noise of a metal gate rising, followed by the _clank, clank, clank _of heavy metal footsteps that were perfectly in time with the beat of Steve's pounding heart. Steve's belly gave a hard swoop as the all-too-familiar sound of the Iron Man armour grew closer, struggling against the invisible force that pinned him in place.

_Oh God, no! _Steve thought desperately. He tried to pinch himself, to prove that he was just trapped in one of his nightmares, but he was too frozen with dread to even move.

_Please, no! Please, don't let it be—!_

And then he was there, standing in front of Steve, his polished red and gold armour shining brightly even in the dim light of the bunker. HYDRA had altered his suit design, making it bulkier with more obvious weaponry, similar to James' War Machine armour, and the mask was shaped into the most menacing frown that Steve had ever seen, but Steve still knew it was him. There was no way that Hammer would go through his whole song and dance routine if it wasn't.

Steve stumbled backwards, trying to scream, but with no air in his lungs it only came out as a sort of choked gasp as he stared at his husband, his beloved fella, the man he had sworn to love, honour, and protect as long as he should live.

And he had _failed._

And now—now HYDRA had him, and who knows what they'd been doing to him all this time. And where was Peter? Was he still safe, or did—

_Oh God, no!_

Did HYDRA have Peter too? Or did Tony manage to get him to safety before he was captured?

Steve's entire body was shaking, his chest screaming for air that was burning hot and ice cold at the same time as he tried to figure a way out of this waking nightmare. There were so many bits and pieces that just didn't add up, and now—

And now, he didn't know what to do. The Wanda girl seemed to have some kind of manipulative powers over both mind and body, and while Steve had a feeling that she was just as much a prisoner of HYDRA as he was, his first priority had to be freeing Tony.

But other than his cell and this massive arena-like area, he had no idea what the rest of the bunker looked like, or how much resistance he'd be facing if he were to break free.

He squeezed his eyes closed, breathing in deeply through his nose before turning to Hammer, squaring his shoulders.

"No!" he said in the best rendition of his Captain's voice that he could muster. "I won't—I won't do it! I won't fight him, so you may as well let him go!"

"Um… well, I'm pretty sure that we didn't give you a choice in the matter, here, Steven," Hammer replied with a humourless chuckle. "So, ah, you may as well get started, _please_, 'cause this isn't the only thing on my rather packed agenda today, so we need to be moving things along now."

Steve pursed his lips, shaking his head. "No! I won't do it! You can't make me—!"

He was cut off by a repulsor shot that flashed so close to his face that it singed the overgrown whiskers covering his chin. He cried out, raising his hands in surrender as he took a step forward.

"Tony! Sweetheart, please, you don't have to do this!" he pleaded. "They've got you under some kind of mind-control, let me help—!"

He was cut off by another blast, this time straight to his chest, throwing him backwards at least twenty metres and landing him flat on his back, unable to breathe.

"Ah, I'm pretty sure that there's not supposed to be this much talking during a fight, Steven!" Hammer shouted from his perch two stories up. "I didn't just sink over half of my fortune into this prototype for you to just lie around and let him beat you to a pulp! I mean, if you keep on refusing to fight, I suppose that we could just go and grab that kid of yours to do the job for me, so I guess it's really up to you."

Fear seized Steve so strongly that he felt as if he were drowning again, that all of his blood was being replaced by frigid water and his lungs were transforming into massive blocks of ice. Tears stung his eyes, burning hot against his freezing cold flesh as he struggled to breathe in.

"Even you wouldn't be that cruel," he said, low and tight.

"Who, me? Nah," said Hammer. "But while _I'm _not personally invested in the idea of forcing a superpowered kid to fight against his own father, unfortunately I can't really say the same for the rest of my colleagues, so… it's probably best that we don't tempt them, don't you think?"

_Oh God, they know about Peter. HYDRA knows about Peter._

There was another flash of red light, and Steve felt himself being forced back up to his feet only to be immediately shot in the abdomen. He doubled over, choking and gasping for breath, his heart audibly cracking in two as he realised that in order to protect his son, he was actually going to have to fight his own husband.

Slowly, Steve looked up at the masked face of the man he loved more than life itself, begging with his eyes to not force him to do what they were being forced to do.

"Tony, _please!" _he begged. "I love you, don't let them do this to us!"

But Tony only raised his arms, his repulsors aimed directly at Steve's heart.

"You just started a war!"

* * *

_**Happy New Year to all of my awesome readers! I hope 2020 is a safe and happy year for you all! :)**_

_**I can't wait to see what you think! Please don't hesitate to leave me a review!**_


	17. Chapter 17

"Aaarrggghhh!" Peter groaned as he slammed the top of his computer closed and buried his face into his blankets, his glasses digging uncomfortably into the sides of his nose. He had just spent the last three hours decoding the longest HYDRA file on his list, and for all of his work he had found exactly nothing of value.

In fact, it seemed like most of the file had been written by a kindergartener since it read more like a fairy tale than anything else, with lots of references to peanuts and peaches and wild horses and "gates marking the sea", exactly none of which was helping Peter figure out where HYDRA was keeping his papa.

And while he was still trying to maintain a brave face in front of Dad and the rest of his family and friends, as the days dragged on with absolutely no progress, Peter had to admit he was starting to lose hope that they would ever find Papa.

_It's been almost four weeks, _Peter thought miserably. _If we don't find him soon, then… _

_Nope, not gonna go there._

They had at least been able to rule out a few places thanks to the scouting raids conducted by Uncle Bucky, Uncle Clint, and Auntie Nat on several HYDRA coastal strongholds throughout Eastern Europe and Russia. Western Europe was more difficult to cover, as it wasn't as easy to slip in and out of those countries even with just the three of them. So far they had been able to rule out the countries along the Mediterranean coastline, but that still left a lot of European ground uncovered, which Director Fury—along with Pepper, since Stark Industries had offices in many of those countries—was trying to help cover using some of his old spy connections.

But Peter didn't really have the patience to wait for diplomacy, and neither did Dad. They both wanted answers _now._

'_Cause if we don't find him soon, then—_

No.

He couldn't go there.

His lungs ready to burst, Peter finally lifted his head, gulping in air. He pulled off his glasses, rubbing at his eyes as he tried to decide what to do. It was already late, after midnight, and he was so tired that he could barely hold his head up, but at the same time too afraid to go to sleep. His dreams had been nothing short of horrifying lately, and he didn't really feel like stressing Dad out even more by waking up screaming again.

"May as well just keep going," Peter muttered. He reached for his bag of peanut m&ms, popping three into his mouth as he opened the next file.

Dad had actually taken the news about the HYDRA files a lot better than Peter thought he would. The fact that Peter had been almost inconsolable when he finally confessed probably helped his case quite a bit, but once Dad recovered from his initial shock and looked over what he had decrypted, he agreed to allow Peter to keep working on the files as long as he promised to share everything that he found with the rest of the team.

Unfortunately, he hadn't found all that much since then, and there weren't all that many files left to decrypt. Auntie Nat had uncovered some more at a few of the bunkers they had raided, but so far none of them had panned out either.

Grabbing another handful of m&ms, Peter shoved them into his mouth and selected the next file, breathing out slowly as he allowed his eyes to relax into their panoramic state so he could decipher it. He was so engrossed in his work that he didn't even notice Dad coming into his room until he sat down on the bed, nearly causing Peter to jump out of his skin.

"Pete, it's really late, bud," Dad said softly. He pressed a kiss to the top of Peter's head, ruffling his hair. "You need to get some sleep, this stuff can wait till tomorrow."

Peter shook his head. "Dad, I don't—I was just trying to finish this, and—"

"Nuh uh. Don't you be trying to give me excuses, buddy, I know you too well," Dad cut in. "You keep telling yourself that it's just one more file, but then it'll be just one more, and then just one more, and so on, and so on, and—" He paused, letting out a sort of morbid chuckle. "Can't say that I don't know where you get that particular trait from, but… it's probably not the best thing when it's a school night, don't ya think?"

"Mmm," Peter grumbled. "No, I guess not, but—"

"Pete," Dad said, and Peter's heart gave a lurch when his voice broke. "Please, bud, try and get some sleep, yeah? You know Papa wouldn't want you to be stressing yourself out like this."

"Yeah, but—"

He managed to swallow the rest of his sentence before it escaped from his mouth, not wanting to upset Dad more than he already was. He had already lost a bunch of weight since Papa had been gone, his eyes were red-rimmed and puffy, like he'd been crying, his face was scarily pale under his overgrown facial hair, and Peter knew that he hadn't slept more than a few minutes in the last several days. And he'd only gotten that because Uncle James had threatened to knock him over the head if he didn't sit down for awhile.

It was the same way that Dad had always been whenever Peter was sick as a little kid, and when Papa had been in the hospital after the Malibu house bombing and the Project Insight mess. He just couldn't rest when someone he loved was sick or hurt.

Or missing.

"Okay, fine," Peter said instead. He fiddled with his blankets for a second, trying to decide if he should ask. It'd been awhile since he'd needed Dad to help him fall asleep, but… the nightmares had just been so bad lately, so…

_What the hell._

"Dad?"

"Yeah, bud?"

"Um… do you think… maybe you could—?"

Dad stopped him with a kiss to his forehead. "Sure, bud. I can sit with you until you're asleep."

"Oh, that's good," Peter said in a rush. "Thanks."

The corners of Dad's lips quirked up into the slightest of smiles. "Sure thing. Go on and brush your teeth, yeah?"

"Uh huh."

Stacking his laptops and m&ms on his bedside table, Peter shuffled into the bathroom, finding Dad already in position when he came back out. He crawled underneath his covers, burrowing down as Dad pulled them up to his neck and brushed his hair off his forehead.

"Sleep now, buddy," Dad whispered. "I love you."

"Love you too," Peter mumbled as he cuddled a bit closer, listening to the calming sound of Dad's heartbeat. He let out a semi-contented sigh when Dad's fingers wove into his hair, rubbing his scalp. Dad had told him too many times to count that the only way he'd been able to get him to sleep—or stop screaming, as was usually the case—when he was a baby was to tuck his head against Dad's chest over his heart, and rub his head.

And it still worked even now, apparently, because barely a minute later Peter felt himself start to drift off. He forced one eye open, glancing up at Dad to find him with his eyes closed and his head tipped back against the headboard. He wasn't completely relaxed, with his tight jawline and stiff shoulders, but it was the closest he'd been since Papa was taken away, and Peter knew it was probably the best that he would get until Papa came home again.

"Dad? We're gonna find him, right?" Peter hated how pathetic he sounded, and how _small_, but that last file had thrown him for such a loop that he felt just as pathetic and small as he sounded. It had just been he and Dad for so long before Papa suddenly showed up in the middle of that Afghanistan desert, but Peter loved him now as though he had been there for his entire life, and the thought of never seeing him again was just too much to even contemplate.

And he knew it was even worse for Dad.

"Course we are, buddy," Dad murmured sleepily. "If Papa was too damn stubborn to die when he was frozen in ice for over sixty years, then he'll be too damn stubborn to die now too."

"Mmm, that's true. He is pretty stubborn."

"Damn right he is. Sleep now."

"Uh huh."

_We've gotta find him,_ Peter thought as he tucked even closer to his father, finally succumbing to his exhaustion.

_For all our sakes._

* * *

Steve jerked awake, spitting a mouthful of blood all over the concrete floor of his cell, crying out as a sharp pain pierced his side like a spear. He pressed his palm against the spot, biting his lip to try and keep quiet as he slowly hoisted himself into a sitting position. His chest hurt so badly that he could only breathe in shallow gasps, his left foot was practically useless, and both of his hands were bloody and bruised across the knuckles, the pain shooting down his left index and middle fingers indicating that they were likely broken. Again.

Finally situated against the wall, Steve sucked in a slow breath, tipping his head back as he tried to get his sluggish mind to start working. His memory had been almost useless lately, too murky from pain and grief and dulled by never-ending hunger and thirst to function more than what was required for basic survival. He knew that HYDRA was drugging him, and the red-haired woman seemed to have some kind of mind-control powers as well, such that Steve had now developed an almost Pavlovian-like fear response to even the sight of her that most likely wasn't helping anything.

He closed his bruised and swollen eyes as bright flashes of light raced across his mind, sprinkled with various images of his husband and son that were alternatively heart-wrenching and terrifying. Peter lying unconscious, crushed underneath three tons of rubble. Tony being attacked by some electronic whip-wielding lunatic while he was driving. Peter being attacked by the very defence drones that Tony had invented to protect him, while Quentin Beck looked on and laughed.

Tony frantically rushing over to Peter, lying motionless on the tarmac of an airport.

And by far the worst of them, Tony attacking Steve in a rage because he believed that he had been turned into a HYDRA agent, all while wearing armour designed by Justin Hammer.

_It's not real, _Steve thought, hoping against hope that he was actually right and not just dreaming it. _Tony could never hate me, they're just messing with my mind. None of it's real._

_My name is Steven Grant Rogers. I was born on July the fourth, nineteen hundred and eighteen. I'm the son of Joseph and Sarah Rogers, husband of Tony Stark, father of Peter Stark-Rogers._

_I'm a prisoner of HYDRA, but I can't forget who I am._

_I am Steve Rogers. Husband, father, and Captain America._

He had repeated the mantra three more times when a bright light flashed outside the window of his cell, followed by heavy footsteps in the hallway. They must've been waiting for him to regain consciousness.

_Wonder who it'll be this time?_

With how much difficulty Steve had been having with his memory, especially with how he'd managed to get so badly injured, he had at least been able to keep track of the two different men who made regular appearances at his window.

Doctor List and Justin Hammer.

Apparently this time it was Doctor List's turn.

"Good morning, Captain," Doctor List said as he arrived at the window, the young red-haired woman standing next to him. "I trust that you slept well?"

_Okay, so I guess it must be morning._

_Or, it's just another way they're trying to throw me off._

Steve narrowed his eyes, not too difficult given how swollen they were, his heart already thudding against his sore chest. "Think your trust has been misplaced, Doctor."

"Oh, now, Captain, there's no need to be rude, is there?" replied Doctor List. "After all, we're all on the same side here, aren't we?"

"No," Steve said simply. "We are not."

Doctor List looked so genuinely taken aback by Steve's statement that Steve would've laughed if he thought it wouldn't hurt so damn much.

"I see," the HYDRA agent said. "Well, then I guess we still have some more work to do." He nodded towards the young woman, who's name Steve couldn't seem to remember at the moment. "My dear, if you don't mind?"

The woman gave an almost mechanical nod as she pressed her right palm against Steve's window, filling the cell with the bright red light that he realised a second too late meant that his mind was about to get even more scrambled.

The light had barely faded when Steve blinked and suddenly Tony and Peter were there, standing in his cell, with Tony wearing his armour and Peter dressed in his Spider-Man suit. Steve gasped, clutching his side as he got to his feet, trying to ignore the searing pain in his ribs and crushed foot as he held out his arms towards his beloved husband and son.

"Tony! Peter!" he exclaimed as he took a tentative step towards him, his heart twisting when Tony shook his head, tucking Peter behind him as they both stepped back, almost like they were afraid of him.

"Don't you come near him, you understand me?" Tony warned, his right repulsor aimed directly at Steve's chest. "You goddamn HYDRA scum, you stay away from my son!"

Shock swept across Steve's body like a wave, amplifying the pulsating pain in his ribs and foot to almost unbearable levels as tears stung his sore, swollen eyes.

"Tony, what are you saying? I'm not—" He gave his head a quick shake, trying to look around Tony at Peter. "Peter? Little guy, are you all right? What're you doing here, this place is dangerous!"

A repulsor blast suddenly shot past Steve, blowing away part of the wall behind him.

"Tony!" Steve exclaimed as his belly gave a violent swoop. "Sweetheart, what're you doing?"

"Don't you even fucking talk to me!" Tony shouted as he aimed his repulsor again. "I'm warning you, if you take one more step towards my son, I'm gonna—"

"But he's my son too!" Steve cried as the tears finally escaped, rolling down his cheeks. "Tony, what's wrong? Don't you recognise me? I'm your husband! I love you, how can you not see that?"

But Tony only shook his head, his brown eyes glaring bullets that hit Steve square in his heart, ripping it to shreds. "No. You're nothing but a liar," he said, low and tight. "An imposter who killed my husband and tried to take his place. Well, I'm not falling for it anymore, so you can just take your HYDRA ass and get the hell outta here, 'cause you're not getting anywhere near me or my son, you got that?"

Steve's mind was swirling so fast that he felt lightheaded, the knot in his throat so big that he could barely swallow. This had to be just another HYDRA trick, because there was no way that his Tony would ever speak to him like that, with such contempt and hatred. Tony loved him.

Didn't he?

_It's the woman!_ Steve thought desperately. _She—she's messing with my mind again. It's not real!_

_It can't be real!_

Summoning what remained of his strength, Steve turned away from Tony and Peter and looked directly at the window, shaking his head.

"This isn't real!" he said in the best Captain's voice he could muster. "Get out of my head!"

There was a brief gust of air, and the image surrounding Steve suddenly changed to what looked like some kind of battlefield. Burning fires interspersed with piles of rubble and twisted metal surrounded him, and he whipped around, his breath catching as he caught sight of Peter cradled in Bucky's arms, his limp body covered in burns and black soot.

"Oh God!" Steve gasped as he hurried over to his son, falling to his knees beside him and brushing the matted curls off his forehead. Peter's skin was cold, far too cold for such a burning hot room, and his skin was as pale a blank canvas.

"Bucky? Is he—is he—?"

Bucky's blue eyes were downcast, glassy with unshed tears as he shook his head. "Stevie, he's not—he didn't—" He paused, pursing his lips in anger and disappointment as he looked directly at Steve. "You were supposed to catch him, but… you didn't. Why didn't you catch him? Now he's dead!"

"No!" Steve gasped. "Oh God, please, no!" Carefully, he took his son into his arms, pressing his ear to Peter's chest to listen for a heartbeat.

But there was nothing there. There was nothing except the crackle of the fires behind him, and the shattering of his own heart.

Peter was gone.

_I was supposed to catch him, but—_

_I didn't._

_It's all my fault._

"Steve," James suddenly called from behind him, sending a freezing cold bolt of fear down his spine. Slowly, Steve turned, still holding onto Peter's lifeless body as his eyes landed on Tony, his head lying in James's lap, his armoured body completely motionless.

"He got shot in the heart, Steve," said James, completely devoid of emotion. "He's dead."

_Oh no. No, no, no, no, no!_

Crawling over to his husband, Steve carefully laid Peter down on the floor next to Tony before pressing his lips to Tony's forehead, his ashen skin already ice-cold.

"I'm so sorry, sweetheart," he whispered as tears fell from his eyes, splashing onto Tony's cheeks. "I'm so sorry that I couldn't save you."

And then he gathered his husband and son into his arms, burying his face into their heads of curly brown hair as a whirlpool opened up deep inside his gut, sucking everything inside him down into a dark oblivion of pain and grief, leaving nothing but emptiness behind.

His entire life had just been broken apart into a million shattered pieces, and it was all his fault.

He no longer deserved to live.

"Very good, my dear. One of your best yet, I believe," a vaguely familiar voice said from somewhere behind Steve. His Captain's instinct tried to tell him that he should turn around and investigate the source of the voice, but he was too frozen with grief to even move.

"Let's make sure that he remembers this one, yes?" the voice continued as two sets footsteps echoed against the concrete floor. "I think it might make our task a bit easier from here on out."

* * *

"Pardon me, sir, but Agent Romanoff is on the line," JARVIS said, startling Tony so badly that he knocked over his coffee cup, splashing the burning hot liquid all over his hand and several of Bruce's handwritten notebooks.

"Goddamnit," he grumbled as he shook the scorching hot droplets from his fingers. He grabbed an oil-stained towel from a shelf, mopping up the rest of the spill before it could destroy the rest of Bruce's papers, even though they were already littered with so many coffee stains that he probably wouldn't've even noticed more of them.

"What does she want, JARVIS?"

"Agent Romanoff is inquiring if you would like her to stop by the floral shop on her way home with Master Peter," said JARVIS. "To order Miss Stacy's corsage for the dance?"

"Oh, shit," Tony muttered as he scrubbed a palm down his face. "Ahh, when is the dance again?"

"Three days from now, sir."

Tony huffed, mentally kicking himself for not remembering. "Ah, yeah, if she—if she doesn't mind. And tell her thanks for me, will ya?"

"I will indeed, sir."

Trust Natasha to remember stuff like dances and corsages when she, Clint, and Bucky had just gotten back from yet another raid, this time to several small islands off the Alaskan mainland.

Yet another raid where they didn't find Steve, or really anything else that was useful. Out of the three HYDRA bases that they uncovered, only one looked like it had even been in use during the last fifty years, and which was far too small to be anything other than an outpost of sorts.

The team had been able to rule out most of Western Europe thanks to both Fury's connections and Pepper's popularity as the Stark Industries chief executive officer, leaving Africa, Antarctica, and the coastal regions of the mainland U.S. left to search. Fury had already started working with his connections in Africa, and while Tony wouldn't put it past HYDRA to have a base in Antarctica, there were far too many other bases and outposts scattered along the coastal areas of the continent to really be able to hide another.

Now, the United States on the other hand, with how many members of upper-level government and law enforcement that were already under HYDRA's rule, the team couldn't really rule out anywhere as a possible hiding place for Steve's prison.

Unfortunately, that also meant that the team had to tread very carefully. For how easily HYDRA was able to come up with a chump excuse to arrest Steve, Tony couldn't believe that they hadn't yet tried to nail any of the rest of them, especially given Bucky and Natasha's histories as assassins and Bruce's history of running from the government. He had no doubt that they were already being watched, and as such had JARVIS monitoring all communication lines for possible leaks, as well as keeping the defence drones on high alert at all times.

They weren't going to take him or any of the rest of the team without a fight, that was certain, but it also meant that Tony needed to work _fast._

The fact that they were all banking on the prison being in a coastal area, and not in some other inaccessible place like on top of a mountain or something was something that Tony chose to conveniently ignore most of the time. Intellectually he knew it would be a lot easier to supply a building that was near water than in a mountainous region, and emotionally—

Emotionally, he wasn't sure if he'd be able to handle it if they were wrong.

In fact, he was pretty much certain that he _wouldn't_ be able to handle it.

_Nope,_ Tony thought as he tossed the coffee-soaked towel haphazardly towards a box in the corner. _Not gonna go there._

With a heavy sigh, Tony carefully turned a page of one of the notebooks, rereading the section he'd been studying and comparing it with one of the files that Peter had decoded. Peter had mentioned a semi-enhanced person who he believed could run at almost supersonic speeds, and while the file he'd decoded didn't mention that skill specifically, it did make sense given what had happened up at the Compound.

"JARVIS, pull up the footage from the defence drone that fired at the Compound, will ya?"

A second later his monitor lit up, displaying what appeared to be nothing more than a sharp gust of wind followed immediately by the drone shot, followed by another strong gust.

Tony tapped his chin. "And that was it, J?"

"Yes, sir. There was nothing else."

"Ah huh. And what do you think? You think it looks like a person in there?"

There was a short pause, and Tony could almost imagine JARVIS tilting his head in thought, if in fact he had a head.

"Judging by the displacement of the surrounding leaves and grass during the incident, it would appear to have been caused by a human," said JARVIS. "However, if that is indeed the case, he or she was too fast for me to visualise."

"Hmm. Well, maybe that explains why HYDRA hasn't tried to invade the Tower just yet if their fastest guy got scared off by the drones," Tony muttered. And, since the drones around the Tower had a range long enough to target Peter's school, that could also help to explain why they hadn't gone after him yet either.

Which was obviously just fine by Tony.

"JARVIS, do me a favour and start scheduling regular diagnostics on the drones, all right? Let's say every three hours? I just want to make sure that nothing goes wrong."

"Very good, sir."

"And make sure that at least two are specifically assigned to Pete whenever he's out of the Tower, all right?"

"Yes, sir."

Tony pressed his palm to his chest, the cool metal of Steve's dog tags against his scarred skin sending a light shiver down his spine. The fact that the drones had not only surprised HYDRA but also managed to scare them off couldn't be just a coincidence, and it also likely meant that wherever they were holding Steve was currently out of the firing range of the drones, both at the Tower and Compound and those mounted on the Stark Industries building in D.C.

"JARVIS, pull up a map of the eastern coastal U.S. areas, yeah?"

A second later a holographic map of the U.S. Eastern Seaboard appeared, the Compound, Tower, and D.C. buildings highlighted in red.

"All right," Tony said as he circled the hologram. "Now show me the areas that are in the targeting range of the current drone system."

Green circles appeared on the hologram, encompassing most of the New York and Maryland coastlines.

"Okay," Tony said slowly, thinking. If he were able to double the targeting range of the drones, it just might be enough to force HYDRA out of some of their foxholes and into the open, especially if they were forced to move Steve because of it.

_Hmm..._

"JARVIS, show me what it would look like if the targeting range was doubled?"

The circles grew to include most of the New England coastline, along with all of Maryland, Virginia, and a good portion of the North Carolina coastline.

_Well, it's a start._

"Ah uh. And how long would it take to double the range on the current drones?"

"Am I to assume that you are not interested in replacing the drones, but rather upgrading them?" JARVIS asked.

"Yeah, that would be a valid assumption," answered Tony. "A software upgrade instead of hardware."

"Very well. Then I am estimating it would take one week's time to complete the upgrade on all units, if in fact it is your desire to not deactivate them while they are being upgraded."

"Again, you assume correct," Tony said with a sigh. "We can't afford to have any of those things offline for even a second, you got that?"

"Duly noted, sir," said JARVIS. "Shall I get started immediately?"

"Ahh, you got Rhodey's new suit done yet?" Tony had already upgraded his own armour since Steve's arrest, as well as the rest of the team's equipment and increased the number of the Iron Legion suits from twelve to twenty. He wanted to make sure that the team was as well-equipped as possible when it came time to storm Steve's prison.

"Barring interruption, Colonel Rhodes' armour will be completed at approximately 1800."

"And you've finished all the diagnostics on the new Iron Legion suits?"

"Indeed I have, sir," replied JARVIS, and Tony almost smiled at the UI's indignant tone, so reminiscent of the human Mr Jarvis.

"All right, then as soon as all the diagnostics on Rhodey's suit are done, get started on the drones, yeah?"

"Very good, sir."

"Thanks." Tony ran his fingers down his unkempt goatee, trying to concentrate on the fact that they were going to find Steve instead of the possibility that it might take another week, or even longer.

_Hold on, honey, _he thought, pinching the bridge of his nose. It was definitely time for more coffee.

_We're coming for you babe, you just gotta hold on._

* * *

"Here you are, young man. I hope you have fun at your prom!" the cashier said as she handed Peter the plastic box containing Gwen's corsage, a bright pink tulip accented with baby's breath and some green fern-looking plant that would coordinate with Gwen's emerald green dress beautifully.

Or at least Auntie Nat said it would, and Peter trusted her judgment.

"Thank you," Peter answered with what he hoped was a kind smile. His smiles had been so few and far between lately that when he did manage one it seemed so foreign on his lips that he was afraid it looked fake. But the lady gave him a kind smile in return, so maybe it hadn't been too horrible.

"All right, are you sure you have everything else?" said Auntie Nat as they exited the floral shop. "Suit? Tie? Cologne? Dinner reservation?"

"I made the reservations a week ago, and Dad said I could use his cologne since it's the only kind that doesn't give me a headache," Peter answered as he climbed into the backseat of Uncle Sam's car. "And we picked up my suit yesterday."

"All right," said Auntie Nat, patting Peter's knee. "Then it sounds like you're pretty much set."

"Uh huh." Peter gave a sigh as he leaned back against the seat, briefly closing his eyes. He wished he could be more excited about the dance, especially since Gwen seemed to be, but at the moment all he could think about was the fact that Papa wasn't going to be there to see him get ready, and that it seemed almost wrong for him to be having fun while his papa was missing.

Even though Papa would never want Peter to miss out on something because of him, as Dad had said when Peter brought up the subject a few nights ago, especially since it would mean disappointing Gwen as well. And while Peter knew that Dad was right, it still didn't help him feel any better about it.

"Bucky and I will be up in a couple hours or so to start on some dinner, 'kay, kiddo?" said Uncle Sam as they pulled into the Tower garage. "Don't want you and Tony going hungry."

"Uh huh," Peter said. "Thanks, Uncle Sam."

After storing the corsage in the refrigerator and checking in with Dad in the lab, Peter headed to his room to start on his homework. He had fallen a bit behind on his schoolwork since Papa had been gone, and while he wasn't in danger of his grades being affected or losing his status as the top student in his class, it still annoyed him that he had allowed himself to slack off as much as he had.

Grabbing his polar bear, Peter stuffed the plush animal under his chin as he took out his History textbook and opened his laptop, getting to work on the essay he was writing about the origins of the Civil Rights movement.

"January 10-11th, 1957," Peter read aloud from his textbook. "Sixty black pastors and civil rights leaders met in Atlanta, Georgia to organise nonviolent protests against racial segregation and discrimination."

Peter's head snapped up as something clicked inside his mind, a half-remembered thought that he couldn't quite place, but had a feeling it meant something important.

_Sixty black pastors and civil rights leaders met in Atlanta, Georgia._

_Atlanta, Georgia._

He reread the sentence again, trying to jog his memory, letting out a loud groan as the thought parked itself on the tip of his brain and refused to budge. He raked a frustrated hand through his hair as he read it for a third time, slowly.

_Sixty black pastors and civil rights leaders met in Atlanta, Georgia._

_Georgia._

_Where else have I seen Georgia mentioned lately?_

"Oh my God," Peter gasped, his heart leaping into his throat as he grabbed his second laptop and opened his recently decrypted HYDRA files. He pulled up the long one that he'd dismissed as the gibberish fairy tale, his fingers tapping impatiently against the keyboard as he scanned it over.

_Georgia._

_Largest U.S. supplier of peaches, pecans, and peanuts. I learned that for Decathlon._

_Peaches._

_Peanuts._

Peter sucked in a sharp breath, clapping his hand over his mouth. Was it really that simple?

_But what the hell does "gates by the sea" mean?_

"Ah, JARVIS? Can you help me with something?" Peter asked.

"I am at your service, Master Peter."

"I need to know if the range of the defence drones is long enough to visualise coastal Georgia."

There was a pause, followed by a stern, "I am fairly certain that your father would not approve of this line of questioning, young man."

"No, probably not, but I'd really appreciate it if you could do it anyway," Peter said quickly. "Override Hufflepuff6."

"Oh, very well," JARVIS said with an exaggerated sigh. "But I'm afraid not, Master Peter. The visual range is not long enough."

"Damn," Peter muttered. He buried his nose into his polar bear, thinking. "Um… what about the drones on the D.C. building, would their range be long enough?"

"Not quite, but with a few minor modifications I can increase the range on the southeasternmost unit. Stand by."

"Really?" Peter exclaimed. "How long will it take?"

"Approximately six hours, Master Peter. I'm afraid I am quite busy at the moment, so it won't be any sooner than that."

"No, no, six hours is fine." That would put it right around the time that he'd be back in his room for bedtime anyway. "Can you get started right away? Please?"

"Very well. May I ask what you are hoping to find?"

"Uhh…" Peter bit his lip, just now realising that he was asking JARVIS to help him find a building that was supposedly invisible. JARVIS was really good at a lot of things, but even he probably wouldn't be able to locate a building cloaked with HYDRA retro-reflective tech.

"I guess I'll know it when I see it," Peter said softly. There had to be some clue he could find that would give away a possible location. Disrupted wind patterns, a break in a treeline, _something._

_I'll tell Dad when I find something,_ Peter thought as he resumed work on his essay. There was no point in getting Dad's hopes up if it just turned out to be another dead end.

The whole team ended up coming up to the penthouse for Uncle Sam's homemade fried chicken and mashed potatoes, which were even yummy enough to entice Dad out of his lab for a few minutes. Uncle Clint and Uncle Sam kept the conversation going discussing the plans for their latest raids, while Uncle Bruce went over his latest decoded files and lamented the fact that Uncle Thor hadn't yet returned from Asgard and that no one had heard from him since he'd left. Apparently Loki was causing even more trouble than usual.

After encouraging Dad to at least drink some water along with his coffee—Peter wasn't brave enough to try switching him to decaf—Peter hugged him goodnight and headed back to his room, where he found JARVIS just about finished with the drone upgrade.

"All right, JARVIS, can you please tie that drone's camera to my computer screen?" Peter asked as he slipped on his glasses.

The dim image of the Georgia coastline suddenly appeared on Peter's laptop, not much more than waves crashing against rocks and the occasional seagull.

"Would you like me to focus in on the seagulls, Master Peter? There seem to be quite a few out there at this time of night." JARVIS asked, causing Peter to roll his eyes.

"No, thank you. Um… can you start at the northernmost point and just move south along the coast, please? And go slow?"

"Very well."

Peter watched carefully as the camera panned along the coastline, afraid to even blink in case he might miss something. But after three hours had passed with nothing but more waves and birds to show for it, Peter was both exhausted and fried, and still behind on his homework.

"Damn it," he rasped into his polar bear's neck. He took off his glasses, rubbing at his scratchy eyes and trying to keep the tears from falling. He had been crying so much lately that it was starting to get embarrassing.

"Okay… um… would you mind doing it again, JARVIS? And go the other way this time?" As a scientist, Peter knew that an experiment couldn't be counted as a success or a failure unless it was repeatable, and he wanted to make absolutely sure that he hadn't just missed something.

"Yes, I suppose," answered JARVIS. "But it is already way past your bedtime, Master Peter."

"Yeah, yeah, I know." _What else is new?_

The scan began again, panning from south to north this time. Peter yawned as he watched the waves breaking against the shoreline, pinching himself every time his eyelids got heavy.

"I am really glad that I don't work at a lighthouse or something," he muttered. He slid his glasses off, rubbing at his eyes and trying to blink them back into focus when something shiny suddenly appeared in the far upper right-hand corner of his screen, almost like it was reflecting the moonlight.

"JARVIS, stop!" he exclaimed, flinching as the camera came to a halt. He blinked, slid his glasses back on, and proceeded to freak out when the image completely disappeared.

"Holy shit," Peter whispered as he practically ripped the glasses from his face, tossing them across the bed as he let his eyesight relax into its honeycomb-like state. The shiny object reappeared, clearer this time, and moving parallel to the ground, almost as if it was circling something.

_Oh my God!_

It only took about three seconds for Peter to realise that the object looked almost exactly like one of Dad's Iron Legion suits, which had to mean that—

And then another suit appeared, reflecting the faint moonlight in bright spots of white as it flickered across the screen and disappeared, followed shortly by yet another suit.

"This has to be it!" Peter croaked past his dry throat. He knew that HYDRA had stolen the designs to Dad's Iron Legion, so if they had managed to build some of their own using the Chitauri tech, then…

_Oh, shit!_

"Um, JARVIS? Can you zoom in on this position at all?"

"Stand by," JARVIS said as the camera slowly zoomed closer. Peter's heart started to thud as the sharpening pixels revealed the dark grey outline of a building the size of most hockey arenas.

Apparently, Peter's natural spider-vision allowed him to see past the HYDRA cloaking technology.

_That has to be where they're holding Papa! It just has to be!_

"Okay, right there, JARVIS," said Peter. "Can you please triangulate the position where that camera is paused?"

"Position locked, Master Peter," answered JARVIS. "But I am unsure as to why—"

"It doesn't matter," Peter cut in. "Just… send that exact position to my phone, please."

"Very well, position sent."

After confirming the information on his phone, Peter groped around for his glasses and slid them back on, his heart skipping a beat when the building completely disappeared.

"Yeah, you guys didn't count on me, did ya?" Peter removed the glasses again, relaxing a bit when the flying suits and the building both reappeared and trying to figure out exactly what he was going to do with this information.

He had little doubt that HYDRA was watching them. In fact, they most likely had teams of agents assigned to monitor not only the Tower, but also the Compound and the D.C. building, as well as each individual Avengers' team member.

So the fact that Uncle Clint, Auntie Nat, and Uncle Bucky hadn't encountered any resistance on their recent raids was probably because HYDRA knew they weren't looking in the right places. But if the entire team all happened to suddenly descend on this hidden fortress off the Georgia coast, there would be nothing to stop HYDRA from taking them all prisoner too, or even killing Papa in retaliation.

_But maybe not me, _Peter thought. _Since I'm not an official Avenger._

Peter would definitely be able to move more quietly and easily if he were alone than with a whole team of heroes, and the fact that he could see the supposedly invisible building could also mean that HYDRA wouldn't see him coming until he was already there.

And then, once he was there and had a visual on Papa, Peter could figure out a way to send Dad a signal, letting he and the rest of the team know where they were.

It would be dangerous, and Peter would have to figure out how in the hell he'd be able to get away from his family long enough to make the trip. But if it meant that he would be able to find his papa and expose the rest of HYDRA for all the world to see, then it would be more than worth the risk.

"More than worth it," Peter said firmly.

But first he would need to figure out how he'd be able to get away from the Tower…

"The dance!" Peter exclaimed, quickly smashing his face into his polar bear. The dance would be the perfect opportunity since none of his family members would be there and wouldn't be expecting him home for a few hours. It would mean skipping out on Gwen, and Peter felt a sharp pang of guilt at the thought of disappointing her again, but… hopefully she would be able to forgive him once she understood what he was doing.

_And exactly how would I explain what I was doing?_

With a quick shake of his head, Peter pushed that unpleasant thought to the back of his mind, concentrating next on his need for a suit. It would have to be dark in colour since his usual red and blue would be easier to spot, so black or dark blue would be best, and putting one together by Friday evening definitely presented a problem, but…

"Wait a second," Peter said. "JARVIS, does Dad still have that old lab next to the CEO office downstairs?"

"The lab has never been properly decommissioned, Master Peter, so I would assume that it is still functional," JARVIS answered. "However, it has not been used since Ms Potts took over as CEO."

"Yeah, which is just fine with me." Peter glanced at the clock, his shoulders sagging when he saw it was already almost three in the morning. But there'd be no way he would have enough time to build a suit and get ready for the dance tomorrow after school, so if he was going to do this, it had to be done now.

Which meant that he had to sneak into Dad's lab, grab his extra bottles of web fluid, then sneak downstairs to the lab and get it up and running again all before he was supposed to wake up for school.

"Why do all of the crises have to happen in the middle of the night?" Peter said as he packed his laptop into his backpack. "Why can't something like this ever happen during normal business hours?"

The penthouse was eerily quiet as Peter crawled up onto the ceiling, carefully making his way down to Dad's lab. His web fluid was being stored with the rest of his chemistry equipment, which was far enough away from Dad's area that he should be able to go unnoticed as long as he was quiet enough, but Peter was still relieved to find Dad conked out next to one of his workstations when he got there, with code strings running across the monitor and a half-empty coffee cup next to his elbow. A lump rose in Peter's throat at how freaked out he knew Dad was gonna be once he realised that Peter had skipped out on the dance, but he was hoping that getting Papa back alive and taking down HYDRA once and for all would be enough to make up for it.

His web fluid carefully packed into his backpack, Peter headed next for the kitchen, and the large vent cover behind the stove that led directly into one of the main ventilation shafts of the Tower. For some bizarre reason Uncle Clint seemed to enjoy climbing through the vents in the buildings sometimes rather than taking the elevators, which usually drove Dad bonkers, but the upside of it was that Uncle Clint had had Peter shadow him on his excursions more than once, so Peter pretty much knew how to get anywhere he needed to get in the Tower without having to use the elevators.

Twenty minutes later, panting and sweating, Peter dropped down into the small lab, relieved to find that Dad hadn't ever gotten around to cleaning it out. He quickly opened his laptop and got to work, inputting the same suit parameters that Dad had used for his old Spider-Man suit, and also adding two additional slots in his waistband for more web fluid vials and one of the locator chips that Dad always installed in Papa's uniforms, which would allow him to send out a signal once he was ready for backup.

"All right," Peter said once everything was up and running. "JARVIS, no one comes into this room except for me, understand?"

"Understood."

He was so thoroughly exhausted by the time he crawled back up to the penthouse and into his room that he just collapsed onto the bed without brushing his teeth, with one final thought flitting across his consciousness.

_Not too much longer, Papa. I'm coming for you._

* * *

"Hey, buddy," Tony said as he rapped on Peter's slightly opened door. "You need help with anything?"

"Yes, please," Peter called, obviously frustrated as Tony stepped into the room to find him struggling with the knot of his tie. "I don't know why I can never get these things on straight!"

"Nah, it's okay bud," Tony said as he undid the crooked knot and retied it. He had been taught how to tie a tie by none other than Edwin Jarvis himself, a master of proper formal British dress, and while it might've been silly to pride himself on such an accomplishment, Tony still enjoyed it whenever Peter had to ask for his help.

"There you go," he murmured once the tie was properly in place. Then he picked up Peter's suit jacket, holding it out so he could slip it on and brushing his hands across the shoulders to smooth it out.

"So?" Peter asked once he'd fastened the button, turning to face Tony. "How do I look?"

Nostalgia hit Tony like a speeding train as he looked Peter—his sweet boy—up and down, not understanding how in the hell he had managed to grow up so fast right under Tony's nose. While he was still shorter than Tony, he had managed to get a lot closer to eye level over the course of this school year, and his jawline had sharpened up, with his cheeks losing a bit more of their roundness.

And all too soon he'd be sixteen, and driving, and then off to college not too long after that, and then—

_Oh God, I'm not ready! Where'd my little boy go?_

"Ah, Pete," he managed past his tight throat. "You just look so grown up!"

A nervous smile stretched across Peter's full lips. "Is that a good thing?"

"Course it is, bud," Tony said softly. _Just maybe not the easiest thing for me to admit._

Peter gave a small nod, his brown eyes cast downward. "I wish Papa was here."

"Me too, bud," Tony said as he kissed his son's forehead. "But try and have some fun anyway, yeah? You know Papa would want that."

"Uh huh." Peter huffed out a sharp breath, glancing at his clock. "Well, I guess we better get going."

"Yeah, especially since everyone else is waiting in the living room so they can gawk at you." Tony clapped Peter on the shoulder, giving it a slight squeeze. "C'mon Casanova, let's not keep the lady waiting."

After posing for several pictures graciously taken by Sam, Tony and Peter headed down to the garage. The plan was for Tony to drive Gwen and Peter to their restaurant for dinner, then have them escorted the two blocks to the school by Stacy and his partner, who were both on duty that evening. Stacy had also volunteered to drive Peter home after the dance ended at midnight, which Tony had uneasily accepted after being encouraged by Sam to do so, but at the moment he still wasn't quite sure if he'd be able to go through with it.

Regardless, Tony had made sure that JARVIS had a continuous lock on Peter's phone, just in case.

The look of awe on Peter's face once they arrived at Gwen's house sent another stab of nostalgia straight into Tony's heart. Tony had to admit that she looked very pretty in her emerald green dress that matched her eyes, with her blonde hair curled and swept to one side to brush across her shoulder.

And the fact that she couldn't seem to take her eyes off of Peter spoke volumes to Tony, easing his anxiety just enough to allow him to smile as they all posed for more photographs.

_Steve would be so proud of his little guy, _Tony thought as Peter offered Gwen his arm to walk out to the car. _He should be here._

"All right, here we are," Tony said, pulling up to the curb next to their restaurant, a nice Italian place that he and Steve liked to frequent on their date nights. He glanced into the rearview mirror, giving Peter a wink. "You remembered your wallet, didn't you, Pete?"

"Yes, Dad, I've got it," Peter said, giving Tony one of his _duh _looks as he stepped out of the car. Tony could've sworn he saw a flash of trepidation race across Peter's brown eyes, but it was there and gone again so fast that he decided he had just imagined it. "I'll see you after the dance, okay?"

"All right, bud. Have fun, yeah?"

"Thank you very much, Mr Stark," Gwen said as Peter helped her out of the car.

"You're welcome, Miss Stacy. Have a wonderful night."

He returned to the penthouse to find Bruce sitting in his lab, sipping coffee and going over some of his latest notes, which Tony could tell because they were still mostly readable.

"What's up, big guy?"

Bruce shook his head, not looking up from his papers. "Eh, not too much, unfortunately. I was kinda hoping that Peter would be able to uncover some more stuff, 'cause I honestly think I'm gonna go permanently cross-eyed if I do much more of this decoding." He shot Tony a rather sheepish wince as he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Sorry, Tony. I don't want it to seem like I'm trying to exploit your kid or anything, but—"

"Nah, it's okay," Tony said quickly. "I'll be the first to admit that Pete's unique abilities have come in pretty handy lately, and you know he likes to feel useful, so…"

"Yeah, but this would all be a whole helluva lot easier if we knew where Thor was," said Bruce. "It's not like him to be gone this long."

"You thinking that something might've happened to him?" Tony asked as he sat down at his workstation. "I thought his dad was the king of Asgard or something."

"Yeah, he is, but I wouldn't put much past Loki," Bruce said. "I suppose it all depends on how big a mess he's caused this time."

"Mmm," said Tony. _But at least we know where Thor is._

"So, Clint and Bucky were talking some more about their next set of raids, and—"

"Actually, I've got a couple ideas about that," Tony cut in, and proceeded to explain his theory about the drone targeting range. Bruce listened intently, scribbling notes as he usually did and giving the occasional nod.

"Yeah, yeah, that makes sense," Bruce said once Tony was done. "And it pretty much corresponds to where Clint and Nat wanted to head next. They were planning on starting on the southernmost tip of Florida and working their way up. Nat said she's even gonna dye her hair blonde to try and disguise herself, so…"

"Okay, well, we've still got a few more days before the targeting range will be up to snuff," said Tony. "When were they planning on taking off?"

"I'm sure they won't mind waiting till the drones are done upgrading, especially if it cuts down on the search radius." Bruce paused, giving Tony a sympathetic look. "Steve's pretty tough, Tony, so you know he's not gonna go down without a fight. And he knows we'd never give up on him either, 'cause there's no way in hell he'd give up on any of us."

Tony gave a nod as he tried to take a sip of his coffee, barely managing to avoid spilling it all over his lap.

"No, he sure wouldn't, big guy," he said, his lower lip trembling. Not too long before he was taken, Steve had given the team one of his famous Captain America pep-talks at the end of one of their training sessions, talking about how they all worked together as a synergistic system, the kind of system that was the most efficient and least likely to break down.

But now that synergistic system was missing its Captain, and Tony knew without a doubt that there was no way it would ever be the same again unless they found him.

_Hold on, honey. We're coming for you._

* * *

"Thanks for walking with us, Dad," Gwen said as they arrived at the front doors of the school, where Peter could already see the dance going in full swing. He had managed to keep his composure through most of dinner, only getting a bit teary when Gwen asked him how Dad was doing. He tried to explain how hard it was for Dad with not knowing where Papa was or even if he was still alive, but who also felt like he had to hold himself together for Peter's sake.

And now Peter was getting ready to give Dad even more to worry about.

_But it's for the best,_ Peter thought, almost angrily. _HYDRA would see the whole team coming, and then—_

He refused to finish the thought, choosing instead to thank Mr Stacy for escorting he and Gwen to the school.

"I'll pick the two of you up at ten after midnight, all right?" Mr Stacy said, giving Gwen a quick peck on the cheek. "Have fun!"

Peter offered Gwen his arm as they stepped through the doors, grateful that he'd at least remembered to bring his earplugs to help dull down the booming music. It was just after 8pm, which meant he had about forty-five minutes before he'd have to leave. He had purchased a cheap plane ticket to Savannah, Georgia during school earlier that day which departed from JFK Airport at 1030pm, so Peter was going to have to hustle in order to get there on time. He had already cloned his phone, hiding the duplicate underneath a loose floor tile in one of the boys' restrooms, and had stashed a change of clothes in his locker so he wouldn't have to wear his nice suit on the plane. His new black Spider-Man suit was already underneath his clothes, with the mask tucked down inside the neckline.

As long as he would be able to escape from Gwen without a huge scene, he should be okay.

They hadn't stepped more than a foot inside the gym when Peter heard Ned yelling their names. "Peter! Gwen! I'm so glad you guys are here!" Peter grimaced as Ned hurried over to them, an extra-wide smile on his face. "Wow, you guys look nice!"

"Thanks, Ned," Peter said, inwardly kicking himself. He had completely forgotten that Ned was going to be hanging around them while Betty was busy overseeing the festivities.

"So, you two wanna get some drinks?" Ned asked. "The punch is awesome here, it's even got real strawberries floating in it!"

"Sure Ned," said Gwen, with a rather exaggerated smile. "Peter?"

"Ah, sure." Peter's breath hitched when Gwen took his hand, lacing their fingers together as they walked over to the refreshments table. She was such an awesome girl, and he was already feeling horrible for having to ditch her.

He just hoped that she would be able to forgive him someday.

For once Ned wasn't exaggerating about the drinks, and as the three of them talked over punch and cupcakes, Peter actually found himself relaxing a little. Despite all of his ballet training with Auntie Nat, Peter preferred to stay on the sidelines during the fast songs while the more coordinated people tore up the dance floor, which Gwen thankfully didn't seem to mind.

It was 825pm when the lights dimmed and the music slowed to a ballad. Peter gulped as Gwen gave his arm a light tug, relieved when he noticed Betty hurrying towards Ned from across the gym. At least they would get one slow dance in before he had to leave.

"Um… do you wanna—?"

"Yes," Gwen said, nodding rapidly. "I'd love to dance with you."

"Oh, that's good," Peter breathed, his cheeks flaming hot. He set down his cup and took Gwen's hand, leading her over to the dance floor. As soon as they stopped Gwen wound her arms around his neck, resting her cheek on his lapel as his arms curled around her slender waist and pulled her close. He closed his eyes as they began to sway back and forth, breathing in the incredible scent of her gorgeous hair and biting his lip to keep the tears in.

_I'm so sorry, Gwen. I really hope that you won't hate me after tonight._

"Peter, are you all right?" Gwen whispered after a moment or two. "You seem… tense."

Peter huffed, his arms tightening around her as much as he dared, trying to focus on the burst of sensation sparkling across his chest than his upcoming secret mission. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this pleasantly warm.

"I'm definitely okay at the moment."

"Mmm," Gwen murmured. "Me too."

Another slow song began once the first one was over, and Peter breathed a slight sigh of relief, tucking Gwen as close as he could without being creepy, not wanting the warmth to end.

_Maybe this is why Dad loves sitting on Papa's lap so much._

But the song ended all too soon, and Peter reluctantly released Gwen's waist, trailing his fingers down her arm to squeeze her hand. It was time.

"Um… I've gotta—I need to use the bathroom, so—"

"Oh, it's okay," Gwen said with a rather quick nod. "I'll just meet you back by the punch?"

"Yeah, ah, sure," Peter said. "Sounds good."

Peter turned away before he could say anything else, too afraid that Gwen would guess what he was planning to do. Dad and Papa had always told him that he was a terrible liar, which he supposed was a good thing. But it wasn't going to help him tonight.

At the edge of the gym, Peter took advantage of the teacher chaperones' distraction with students making out behind the bleachers to slip into the hallway, heading for his locker. He quickly changed his clothes, cringing as he stuffed his nice suit into his locker and slammed the door, hurrying towards the nearby boys' room where he'd hidden his cloned phone. It was the same restroom with the busted window where he used to sneak out for his Spider-Man patrols all those months ago, behind the tall set of bushes and still out of the sightline of Happy's security guards.

He had just finished activating the clone and rechecking the equipment in his backpack when he heard the bathroom door open and the _clack, clack, clack_ of a pair of hard-soled shoes on the floor. Peter froze, gasping as Gwen suddenly came into view, her green eyes going briefly wide before narrowing again.

"I knew it," she said softly. "I just knew something was up. You've been acting off all night tonight, so I just—"

"Gwen!" Peter finally choked out, his fight or flight response obviously lagging behind a second or two. "Aahh, what're—what're—what're you doing in here? This is a boys' bathroom!"

Gwen scoffed as she tilted her head, her hands on her hips. "Oh, and _that's _the weirdest thing going on right now? The fact that I'm in the boys' bathroom, and not that you're trying to sneak off to go and find your papa?"

"Well… yeah," Peter stammered, his head spinning. "No, wait, that's not—um… how'd you—wait, _what?"_

Gwen took a step forward, her expression morphing into sympathy as she placed her hand on Peter's arm. "I _know, _Peter. I know who you are, and I know what you're doing. I just… I just wish you would've told me."

_Oh, shit! _Peter thought in a panic. "Um… what do—um, what do you mean, you _know?"_

"I mean, I _know, _Peter," Gwen said again. "I know that you're Spider-Man."

Her words hit Peter like a blow to the chest, and he literally stumbled back a step. "Um… how—how do you think you know that? 'Cause I'm pretty sure that I've never said anything about being Spider-Man, and I _know_—well, um… so… how, exactly?"

Gwen gave him a rueful smile. "Well, I know I'm not the smartest person in the class, but I'm no dummy either. Your lightning-fast reflexes when I almost dropped my computer that one time? Your bad reaction to the peppermint in my mom's cake? The fact that I found your clothes at Liz's house that night of her party, and how you were able to save my dad's life when the movie theatre blew up? It all makes sense."

_Oh, shit, she found my clothes? This wasn't supposed to happen!_

"Okay, maybe, but—um… I still don't—" Peter paused as he shook his head, internally kicking himself.

"Look, Gwen," Peter said as he placed his hands on her waist. "I am so, so sorry. I know I've been a jerk to you sometimes, and it's even more jerky to just leave you like this, but I really, really gotta get going right now or this whole thing is gonna be shot to hell, so—"

He was cut off by Gwen's fingers brushing across his lips. "I know," she whispered. "I just wanted to tell you good luck, and to be careful. Please?"

All of Peter's emotions that were bubbling just beneath the surface finally boiled over, and he cupped Gwen's cheek in his hand, hesitating only long enough for her to nod before pressing his lips to hers in a kiss. It was absolutely _not _how he had imagined their first kiss would be, standing in the middle of a dark and stinky boys' bathroom during a school dance, but somehow, in all of the craziness that was his life at the moment, it seemed to be just perfect.

"Please," Gwen whispered once they broke apart, their foreheads pressed together. "Please be careful!"

"I will," Peter murmured. "And, Gwen, I gotta tell you, um… I… ah—"

"I know, Peter. I really like you too."

"Oh, that's good," Peter breathed. "That's really, _really _good." He quickly pecked her lips again, hating the fact that he had to tear himself away from her. "I'll see you soon, okay?"

Gwen gave a nod. "Okay."

Reluctantly Peter released her, watching as she exited the bathroom. Then he grabbed his backpack and opened the busted window latch, crawling out of the building. He took care to stay low and out of the streetlights until he was two blocks over, where he was able to hail a taxi and head for the airport.

He had a flight to catch.

_Hold on, Papa. I'm coming for you._

* * *

DUM-E let out a rather mournful beep as he stopped next to Tony, a fresh cup of coffee attached to his appendage. Tony patted him as he took the cup, which was only about two-thirds full because of how much had spilled on the short trip from the coffeemaker over to Tony's workstation.

"Thanks, boy," Tony said as he took a sip, earning another beep as DUM-E returned to his corner, patiently waiting for when Tony needed him again.

Tony sat back down at his workstation, pinching the bridge of his nose as he attempted to force his exhausted eyes to stay open. He had sent Bruce back downstairs when he started nodding off into one of his notebooks, but Tony at least needed to stay awake until Peter got home from the dance.

And then, well… his occasional twenty-minute catnaps on the counter seemed to be working just fine for him lately, so…

He had just opened yet another of Bruce's notebooks when JARVIS spoke up.

"Pardon me, sir, but Chief and Miss Stacy are down in the Tower lobby and are requesting access to the penthouse."

"They are?" Tony said with a worried glance towards the clock. It was only around ten; the dance wasn't supposed to be over for another couple hours. "Is Pete with them?"

"Master Peter is not present, sir," JARVIS said. "I currently have his location marked at the school, but—"

"Then why the hell is his date for the dance here without him?" Tony snapped. "What the hell do they want?"

"Perhaps that question would be answered if you allowed them to come up to—"

"Then get 'em the hell up here!"

"Very good, sir."

His heart in his throat, Tony rushed into the living room, pacing back and forth and nearly jumping out of his skin as soon as the elevator doors opened. Stacy was wearing his cop uniform and Gwen was still in her dress from the dance, and looked as though she had been crying.

"Mr Stark, it's all my fault!" Gwen said before Tony could get a single word out. "I just let him go, and—"

"Where the hell is my son?" Tony demanded, finally finding his voice. "JARVIS says he's still at the school, but he's supposed to be with you."

"And he was, Mr Stark, until about an hour ago," Stacy said grimly.

"An _hour_?" Tony shrieked. He looked frantically between the father and daughter standing in front of him, trying to discern if they were lying. "He's been missing for an hour and you're just letting me know _now?"_

"But he's not missing!" Gwen cried. "Or at least, he doesn't think he's missing." She glanced up at her father, who gave her an encouraging nod. "You see, I found him… right before he got away, and—and I told him that I knew who he was and what he was trying to do, and—"

"You told him _what?"_ Tony exclaimed. His fingers wrapped around his left forearm, squeezing hard. "You told him you knew who he was? What, are you talking in some kind of a teenage code or something?"

"She means she figured out that Peter is Spider-Man, Mr Stark," Stacy said. "And that he was leaving to go search for Captain Rogers."

Tony's eyes immediately went wide, then slammed shut as he fought the strong urge to grab Stacy by the scruff of his neck and slam him up against the wall until he told the truth.

"What in the goddamn _hell _are you talking about?"

Stacy gave him a sympathetic look. "It's true, Mr Stark. Gwen told me just before we came here that she figured it out quite a while ago."

"You did?" Tony asked, his belly swooping when he realised that he had just pretty much confirmed their suspicions.

"Yes, she did," Stacy said gently. "Just like I did after the incident at the theatre."

"Oh God." Tony breathed in a shaky breath, still holding his forearm. "And yet you didn't turn him in?"

Stacy shook his head, rather proudly. "No, I didn't. And not only because he saved my life."

"Yeah, okay, but none of this explains where the hell he is now!" Tony looked over at Gwen, whose cheeks were wet with tears. "You saw him leave?"

"No, not exactly," Gwen said. "And he didn't tell me where he was going, just that he needed to leave right then or his whole plan would be ruined. But he did admit that he was going to search for his papa."

Tony flinched at the mention of Steve, and he grabbed onto the back of the couch, trying to keep himself from tipping over.

_He must've found something new, something he thought he couldn't share with the rest of us, _Tony thought. _Oh Christ, Pete, what the hell have you gotten yourself into now?_

"I'd—I'd like to help you, Mr Stark, if—if I can," said Gwen. "Maybe if I could take a look at Peter's computer or something we could figure out where he's gone?"

"And once we do, I've got some friends in the FBI who are ready to help," said Stacy. "As well as myself."

Tony scoffed, his head spinning. "FBI. It was the goddamn FBI who took my husband away, so if you think that I'm gonna trust—"

"I would trust these agents with my life, Mr Stark," Stacy interrupted. "No, I'd trust them with my daughter's life. They are ready and willing to help, all we only have to give the word. I swear it."

_He swears it. But does that really mean anything anymore?_

"Okay, but I'm not sure that a few FBI agents are gonna be enough against what I'm afraid we'd be up against," Tony said softly.

"Maybe not, but they would at least be a start," Stacy insisted. "And I also have plenty of police colleagues down in D.C. who would be more than happy to start making some arrests if we could gather enough evidence to justify them." He stepped forward, offering Tony his hand. "We want to help you, Mr Stark, you just have to let us."

Tony stared at the police officer's hand, his lower lip shaking as he tried to decide what to do. He needed to find Peter ASAP, before HYDRA had a chance to get their hands on him. He was assuming that Peter took off on his own because he thought that it would be easier for a single person to sneak in to wherever they were holding Steve than an entire team, but… _still… _

_He's only a kid, goddamnit! My kid!_

_Our kid._

"All right," Tony said as he shook Stacy's hand. He glanced down at Gwen, her green eyes glassy but determined. "You good at keeping secrets?"

"I am, Mr Stark," said Gwen. "I promise."

"Good," Tony said firmly. "Then let's get started."

* * *

_**I can't wait to see what you think! Please don't hesitate to leave me a review! :)**_


	18. Chapter 18

"Okay, Mr Stark, I think I almost have it here," Gwen said, squinting at Peter's computer screen from her seat on the floor of Tony's lab. "It looks like Peter was trying to observe something along this part of the Georgia coastline, but I can't be sure exactly what he was looking at."

"And why not?" Tony snapped. "Sorry," he added quickly. "Um… why not?"

"Well, 'cause there's nothing there," Gwen said. She turned the screen towards Tony, which showed nothing but ocean waves crashing against a rocky shoreline. "According to your JARVIS these are the exact coordinates that Peter transferred to his phone, but unless I'm missing something, I can't see anything there."

Tony huffed in frustration, pressing his palm to his chest as he resumed his pacing. "Can you double-check the location for me, J?"

"It has indeed been double-checked, sir," answered JARVIS. "And triple- and quadruple-checked, before you ask."

"Goddamnit," Tony muttered. "I don't suppose that you have any idea what the hell Pete was looking at?"

"Apparently Master Peter has better eyes than I, sir, so I'm afraid not."

"But his airline ticket was from New York to Savannah, Georgia?"

"That is correct."

"And I don't suppose we can trace his name?" asked Sam. "Peter Stark-Rogers isn't exactly an innocuous name, so if we start asking around maybe we could find someone that he ran into."

"'Cept he didn't use his own name," Tony grumbled. "Kid has about a hundred different role-playing names on his Minecraft forums, so he's probably going through those."

"And it's not like he'd need to talk all that much once he left the airport," said Natasha from her seat next to Gwen. She had graciously loaned Gwen some clothes so at least the poor girl wasn't sitting around in her fancy dress, but it was already after three in the morning and Tony knew she had to be exhausted.

"JARVIS, what time did the flight land?" she asked.

"The flight landed at 103am, Agent Romanoff," JARVIS said.

"And how far are those coordinates from Savannah?" asked Sam.

"Approximately fifty-five miles, Mr Wilson," answered JARVIS.

"Okay, so where'd he go once he got off the plane?" asked Clint. "'Cause that'd be a pretty pricey cab ride, so—"

"Nah, Птер would know better than to give any clues about his location," Bucky said from his perch on the arm of the couch. "If I were him I'd just hitch a ride on a truck or something. There's gotta be tons of 'em out there on the highways during the night."

Tony whirled around, swallowing his sharp retort as soon as his eyes landed on Bucky's face. Bucky looked almost as scared as Tony felt, with his pale cheeks and razor-sharp jaw. Back when they brought Bucky to the Tower after the Project Insight mess, Peter had been the first person to really get through to him, and Tony knew that Bucky's adoration for Peter was pretty much limitless because of it.

And now, with both Steve and Peter missing, Tony knew that Bucky was struggling pretty hard.

"Yeah, that's true," Tony said instead, because when he thought about it, he could picture Peter hitching a ride on the back of a truck or something. Goodness knows Steve had told him enough stories about when he used to do it.

"But there's no goddamn way that I'm okay with just sitting here and waiting for Pete to show up on the camera feed either," Tony added. "So now that we have this location, we should—"

"I'm sorry, Tony, but not exactly," Sam cut in. Tony immediately turned on him, and Sam raised his hands. "Hey, without Steve here I'm supposed to think like the Captain, so… I'm just wondering if we can actually trust this location is all. I mean, how do we know that Peter didn't leave this here just to throw us off?"

"We don't," said Bruce. "But while I can see Peter doing something like that, it would make more sense for him to do that if there was actually something at that location besides ocean."

"So you're thinking the kid saw something that we can't?" asked Clint.

"I'm saying that it's not out of the realm of possibility," Bruce said. He glanced over at Tony, who gave him a nod. "I mean, the very reason that Peter was able to decode the stuff that he decoded was because he could actually see the hidden text in the file, so it wouldn't be too much of a stretch to think that there's something out there in that water that he can see that someone without his visual enhancements can't."

"Okay, but if that is the case, then we really have no idea of what we'd be heading into," said Sam. "Without a clear view of the target, there's no way we'd know what kind of resistance they've got or even the size of the building. We could be heading straight into an ambush."

"Then we'll fucking head into it!" Tony yelled, the final remnants of his patience finally fraying into nothing but wisps of thread. "I can't believe we're all still sitting here on our asses when we know where he's headed! This is _Pete_ we're talking about!"

There was a pause as everyone took a collective breath, with Gwen finally breaking the silence by clearing her throat.

"And Peter would know that too, Mr Stark, which is the main reason why I think he chose to go by himself," she said. "If what Dr Banner said is true, then it's possible that Peter saw exactly what he'd be facing and decided that it would be safer for him to go alone. You know, kinda like how the Rebel X-wing fighters were able to get past the powerful defences on the Death Star? The Empire didn't think they were a threat because they were small."

Another pause fell across the lab, with Tony unsure if he should be amused that there was apparently someone else out there who loved Star Wars as much as Peter, or disgusted by the fact that Peter's girlfriend just compared him to an ugly fictional spaceship.

"I hate to say it, Tones, but she does kinda have a point," Rhodey said from his spot on the other end of the couch. "If there really is a fortress out there that we can't see but Peter can, then no one's gonna know the best way to get in there than he is, and—"

"Yeah, maybe, but this is _Pete_, for Christ's sake!" Tony exclaimed. "He's my _son!_ He's not Luke goddamn Skywalker or—or one of your Air Force scouts, Rhodey, he's my fifteen-year-old _kid!"_

"A kid who can lift a car with one hand, Tony, and you know it," said Rhodey. "And a kid who's even smarter than you, so while I'm not saying that we should just sit around here and do nothing, I think we should be cautious about following him right away because the last thing we want is for HYDRA to see where we're headed and either be waiting there to take Peter out, or move Steve somewhere else and bust the whole damn thing." Rhodey got to his feet, placing a hand on Tony's shoulder. "He's your kid, Tony, so you know him best. What do you think he's planning on doing?"

Tony scoffed, shaking his head. He knew that Peter and Steve had spent quite a bit of time discussing strategic planning since Steve excelled at it, so the barely-still-rational part of him had to assume that Peter wasn't completely flying by the seat of his pants.

Or at least, he sure as hell hoped not.

"I guess it does make sense," he finally admitted. "I'd already been thinking that the reason why HYDRA hasn't tried to nail any of the rest of us yet is 'cause we've been so off-track with our searches."

"Yes, and also because public opinion hasn't exactly been swayed in their favour yet," said Sam. "No matter what the news has been saying, I hear stuff when I'm out running and there's still plenty of folks out there who aren't buying what they're trying to sell."

Everyone looked up as George Stacy entered the lab, having spent the last two hours making phone calls to his FBI contacts.

"Station chiefs in both Savannah and Atlanta are on alert, and I've also brought the deputy chief of D.C.'s largest precinct up-to-speed on what's going on, minus a few relevant details, of course," he hastily added when Tony shot him a sharp look. The fact that George Stacy now knew without a doubt that Peter was Spider-Man was making him sick to his stomach, but he was just going to have to get over it. There was no turning back now.

"All right, so—" Tony started.

"Um, I'm really sorry to interrupt, Mr Stark, but I think I might've found something else here," Gwen cut in from her spot on the floor. She turned the computer around, pointing to several lines of code. "It looks like Peter wrote this during school today."

"Yeah? And what is it?" asked Tony. He didn't really feel like tracking down a pair of his glasses at the moment.

"I'm not exactly sure, it's pretty complex," Gwen replied. "But if I had to guess, I'd say it's a communications link between him and…" She paused, squinting at the screen. "Does someone here wear hearing aids?"

"Huh?" Clint said, as if on cue, prompting Natasha to jab an elbow into his leg. "Ow! Why's everyone picking on me all of a sudden?"

Tony rolled his eyes. "Hold on, lemme find my…" He fumbled around on the counter, finally finding his discarded glasses so he could read the code for himself.

"Holy shit, he wrote this during school?" he said with wide eyes. "Christ, no wonder…"

"Ah, Tones? Care to fill in the rest of us?" asked Rhodey.

"It looks like Pete wrote a code that links a communications chip directly into Clint's hearing aides," said Tony. "It'd be pretty much untraceable since it doesn't use normal communications frequencies and Clint would be the only one receiving it."

"And Peter's got one of these chips on him?" asked Gwen.

Tony gave a quick nod. "I build them into each of the Avengers' uniforms, so if Pete built himself a suit he probably put one of 'em in there."

"Okay, so why can't we use it to try and talk to him?" Gwen asked.

"'Cause the chips only work one-way," explained Natasha. "We can hear what he's doing, but he wouldn't be able to hear us. It's for security reasons, in order to keep location tabs during scouting missions."

"Okay, so now we at least know that he's planning on communicating with us," said Sam. "Does Peter know Morse Code?"

"Yeah, he does," said Tony. "Steve taught it to him."

"Well, there ya go," said Rhodey. "See? The kid does have a plan."

"I'm still not okay with just sitting here until he turns the thing on though," Tony said firmly. "We need—"

"I agree, which is why I think you and I should take a trip down to D.C.," Rhodey said. "I need to check back in with the Pentagon anyway, and the Stark Industries building is secure enough to keep HYDRA off our backs, isn't it?"

"Should be," Tony said with a short nod.

"Then I suggest you get ready to go, but make it look like official Stark Industries business," said Sam. "Which means taking the SI jet, no visible armour, etc."

"Yeah, okay," said Tony. "I've got a suit stashed in the SI jet anyway, and a spot in there for Rhodey's new suit. We can make it as incognito as possible."

"And I think Clint and Nat should head down to Florida like they originally planned," said Bruce. "Then once Peter activates his chip, Clint can get in contact with us and we can all converge."

"We'll have the Quinjet on standby, so as soon as the signal's received Bruce, Bucky, and I can be on our way," said Sam.

"And Helen too," said Natasha. She shot Tony a worried glance. "Just in case."

Tony's heart gave a painful lurch. He'd so far been able to almost avoid imagining how badly hurt Steve was going to be once they found him, but now—

"Yeah, I doubt those HYDRA accommodations are five-star, so… it'll be good if Helen's there too."

"I'd very much appreciate it if you would allow me to accompany the team from New York, Mr Stark," said Stacy. "I know I'm not a superhero, but my experience as a SWAT team member should at least allow me to hold my own, and it'll be a lot easier to coordinate with the FBI teams from the field than from here."

Tony bit his lip, hesitating. On the one hand having official police and FBI backup was probably the best way to go. But on the other hand this was HYDRA, and they weren't about to take it easy on anyone who they found to be assisting the Avengers.

"I guess as long as Sam's okay with it," he finally said. "And as long as you can listen to him, 'cause he's gonna be in charge until we get Steve back."

"I have no problem with following a proper chain of command, Mr Stark," Stacy said proudly. "As a police officer, I'm pretty well acquainted with it."

"Yeah, it's fine by me," agreed Sam.

"All right then," Rhodey said, clapping a hand on Tony's shoulder. "Then I suggest we let the guests get home and start packing, 'cause Tony and I should leave for D.C. before dawn."

"Oh, but I'm not sure that I've found everything there is to find yet!" Gwen protested. "There might be more stuff hidden in here on what Peter's doing, so—"

"Gwen, honey, Colonel Rhodes is right," Stacy said gently. "You've helped us with so much already, but it's almost four in the morning and we should really be getting home now."

"But—!" Gwen's lower lip shook as she wrapped her arms around Peter's computer, as if it were Peter himself. "I just want to help. Peter, he just hasn't been the same since they took his papa away, and—"

"None of us have been the same, Miss Stacy," Tony said as he knelt down next to the distraught girl, gently retrieving the computer. "But your father is right, you need to be getting home now. Okay?"

Tears welled in Gwen's green eyes, rolling down her cheeks as she nodded. "Yeah. Okay."

Tony stepped back, allowing the girl's father to help her to her feet.

"I'll be waiting for your call, Mr Wilson," Stacy said, nodding in Sam's direction. "And I'll be ready."

"Copy that," Sam said grimly.

"We can see ourselves out, Mr Stark," Stacy said as he offered Tony his hand. "Thank you for your trust."

"Yeah," replied Tony, rather uneasily. _And it damn well better not be misplaced._

As soon as the Stacys were gone, Tony sank down onto the chair at his workstation, scrubbing a rough hand down his face. This was not at all how he had expected the evening to go.

_Jesus Christ, Pete. Talk about stubborn._

And right on the heels of that particular thought… _Wonder where he gets that from?_

"We should get packing, Tones," Rhodey said softly a few heartbeats later. "Pretend like it's one of your old Stark Industries business trips, yeah?"

"Yeah," Tony whispered with a rather mechanical nod. "Yeah, okay."

"And I'm gonna head down and start on some contingency plans," said Sam. "Nat, you and Clint gonna head out in the morning?"

"Isn't it already morning, technically?" Clint said, not even bothering to stifle a deep yawn. "Damn, why's this stuff always have to happen in the middle of the night?"

Natasha rolled her eyes, giving Clint another sharp elbow to the leg before getting to her feet. "C'mon, Hawkeye. Wheels up at 0500, and I still have to bleach my hair."

"Aww, why the hell for?" Clint whined as Natasha started dragging him from the lab. "I like the red so much better…"

Tony let out a heavy sigh as he watched most of the team shuffle towards the elevator. The fate of his husband was now resting squarely on the shoulders of his fifteen-year-old son, and his deaf archer teammate.

But given everything that was stacked against them, Tony knew those were pretty much the best odds he could hope for.

_Hold on, honey. Pete's coming for you, and I'll be right behind him._

* * *

Peter shivered, burrowing even further down into his hoodie as he checked his phone and huffing in frustration when he saw that he still had around fifteen miles to go.

_Aren't we there yet?_

If he had been thinking more clearly when he got to the truck stop, he would've tried to find a truck whose doors were unlocked so he could've hidden in the back of the cab or something. But instead he had just jumped onto the first truck that he saw leaving in the right direction, and therefore was now stuck—both literally and figuratively—in the small space between the cab and the crate.

And even though he was fairly secure, and that Georgia was a lot warmer than New York, he was still pretty damn cold even with his suit's built-in heater.

He reached into his backpack for yet another snack, trying to both distract himself and keep his strength up at the same time. He had loaded up on as many packaged cookies, Little Debbie cupcakes, and bottles of Powerade as he could fit into his backpack with all of the other stuff he'd crammed inside, and had already gone through over half of it, knowing full well that the chances to eat again once he got to the prison would be few and far between.

According to the location coordinates, Papa's prison was situated out on an island a short distance away from another island called Jekyll Island, which Peter thought both strangely ironic and more than a little freaky. Getting out to Jekyll Island would be easy since there were regular boat rides there from the mainland. Once he was there, however, things were going to get a lot more interesting, since he was absolutely certain that Dad's portable repulsors had never been intended to be used by a person.

Peter had barely finished chewing the final bite of his cupcake when his phone beeped, indicating that it was time for him to jump off the truck. Tightening his backpack straps, Peter pulled his hood up over his head, sucked in a deep breath, and jumped, rolling as he hit the spongy grassy median to avoid injury just like Papa had taught him. He shot to his feet before he even came to a complete stop, running across the highway and heading for the nearest boat launch. It was still very early in the morning, around 4am, and there wouldn't be any boats leaving for Jekyll Island for about three more hours, so Peter was hoping to find a public bathroom or some other small building where he could curl up and catch a bit of sleep before the first boat left. Once he arrived on Jekyll Island, Peter was hoping against hope that the forecasted early morning fog would be thick enough to hide his presence as he flew towards the island prison building.

Flew.

Yeah. _That_ was going to be interesting. Using the portable repulsors to fly had sounded kinda fun when he'd first thought of it, but now that he was getting close to actually doing it, he was more than a little nervous.

But the alternative; swimming out to the prison through the choppy-as-hell, freezing cold Atlantic Ocean was absolutely _not _something Peter wanted to attempt, and at the moment didn't even consider as an option.

_Yeah, that's still a big-ass nope, _Peter thought. _The repulsors are gonna work._

After arriving at one of the big, fancy piers, Peter broke the lock on a public restroom door and slipped inside, sinking down into the corner by the empty trash bin. He grimaced as he tipped his head back against the tiled wall; the room smelled like a bad combination of boys' locker room and strong disinfectant, but at least he was out of the damp, muggy air and could rest for a bit. He had been going almost nonstop for over two days already, and was pretty much fried.

_At least it's for a good cause_, Peter thought as he drifted off, only to be awakened three seconds later—or so it seemed—by his phone alarm, the sun barely visible through the fog in the distance. It was time to catch his boat.

Thankfully, both the ticket seller and most of the early-morning commuters on the ferry seemed to be just as tired as Peter felt, so no one paid him too much attention as he purchased his ticket and boarded the ferry, taking a seat inside so as to stay out of the dense, chilly fog. The fog was just as thick as he'd hoped, and so would hopefully provide him with enough cover to fly out to the prison as long as it didn't burn away before he got to Jekyll Island.

Which it didn't. So far, things seemed to be going according to plan.

Following the crowd off the ferry, Peter shuffled towards a row of novelty shops, ducking down behind the largest one and heading for the rocky shoreline. There he stripped out of his clothes, quickly downing the last of his Powerade before pulling out his web shooters and the repulsors. Then he buried the backpack underneath a couple of heavy rocks and pulled on his mask, allowing the adjustable eye frames to widen so he could get a visual on the prison.

"There it is," Peter whispered as his gaze landed on the gloomy dark grey building, barely visible through the thick mist hanging in the air. The Iron Legion wannabes were still flying their sentry routes around the perimeter, so Peter took a couple of minutes to memorise their pattern and calculate an approximate distance so he could program the repulsors to shut down at the right time. It wouldn't do him any good to blow the entire thing by crashing into the side of the building because he'd miscalculated the flight time.

The flight time finished and double-checked, Peter climbed down to the very edge of the rock line and got to work on the repulsors, securing them to his feet and left hand and making one final check of his flight program before stashing his phone into his belt and attaching the fourth repulsor to his right hand. Then he looked out across the fog-drenched water, sucking in a deep, shaky breath.

"All right, here goes nothing," he murmured. "JARVIS, can you please activate the repulsors?"

A second later the repulsors fired, immediately sending Peter shooting backwards towards the bank of sharp rocks. He managed to adjust the course just before he would've smashed against them, but then shot straight up over the top of the row of buildings.

"No, no, that's not it!" he cried as he locked his knees and elbows, trying to angle his upper body downward. He managed to get himself parallel to the water barely before he would've broken the top of the fog line, activating his parachute as a sort of makeshift flight stabiliser.

"How in the hell does Dad make this look so easy?" he wondered as he finally leveled out, his head and shoulders getting plastered with thick droplets of fog as he flew towards the prison. His mishaps had messed with the timing that he'd initially calculated, so he made a quick adjustment to his angle of flight, slightly changing his landing site in order to stay hidden from the flying suit sentries.

About fifteen or twenty seconds later his phone beeped, indicating that JARVIS was cutting power to his foot repulsors because he was only ten seconds out.

"Okay, please let this work!" Peter muttered as he silently counted the seconds in his head, ducking his head and rolling just in time to avoid crashing into the sand covering the shore of the island. He rolled to a stop, quickly shaking the repulsors from his limbs before they could burn through his suit.

He had made it, and was still in one piece. So far things seemed to be going well.

The _whoosh _of an approaching sentry suit caused Peter to whip around, his heart giving a jump when he realised there were no decent places for him to hide except for the sand.

"Oh, shit!" Peter cried as he dropped down, curling his fingers into the damp sand and spreading it over his body up to his neck. He held his breath as the machine flew overhead, letting it out in little puffs when its course didn't alter even a millimetre.

"Whew! That was way too close!"

Based on the calculations that he'd completed when he first discovered the prison, Peter knew he had only about forty-five seconds before another suit was due to zoom by. He quickly got to his feet, and was still brushing sand from his chest and arms when he froze, the all-too-familiar ice bolt racing down his spine.

_Oh no! _Peter thought as he whipped around to search for the potential perpetrator, and saw nothing except sand.

_What the hell?_

But not even a second later the sand literally began to levitate right in front of his eyes, swirling in a clockwise fashion as it rose off the ground, not too unlike the tendrils of fire had at the theatre.

"Oh my _God!"_ Peter cried, his belly swooping in horror as the sand grains melded together to form what appeared to be an actual person made out of sand. _Now there's a sandman?_

"Where do all these guys come from?" he yelped.

And just as quickly, "No, no, no! On second thought, I don't think I wanna know!"

Before the sandman was even fully formed he let out an earth-shattering roar, sending another freezing-cold bolt down Peter's spine just before he swung his massive fist right at Peter's head. Peter ducked just in time, jumping out of the way and launching a web at the sandman's arm, which ended up going right through it.

"Oh hell, not this again!" Peter said as the monster swung again, this time aiming for Peter's abdomen. Peter jumped back barely avoiding the blow and launching another web even as he realised that it would probably be useless.

Which it was.

Unsure of what to do, Peter hesitated just long enough for the monster's next punch to land squarely on his jaw, sending him flying at least ten metres to crash against the outside wall of the prison, right next to a sign that read Seagate Penitentiary.

'_Gates marking the sea',_ Peter thought, shaking his head to try and clear it. _Whoever thought HYDRA could be so poetic._

Scrambling to his feet in the loose sand, Peter ran back towards the monster, aiming his right fist directly for his abdomen, his jaw dropping behind his mask when his hand went right through him.

"Okay, now that's just not fair!" Peter cried as the monster swung again, this time landing an uppercut that slammed Peter flat against the sand, knocking all the air from his lungs in one fell swoop.

Gasping and choking, Peter could only watch as the monster stepped forward and planted his massive foot directly on top of his chest, leaning down with such an evil look in his eyes that Peter's heart skittered.

"Longing!" the monster roared, his sand-laden foot pressing even harder as Peter attempted to squirm out from underneath it. "Rusted! Furnace! Daybreak! Seventeen—"

"Sorry dude, but those don't work on me anymore!" Peter said, finally managing to work his fingers underneath the sandman's foot, grunting as he tried to lift it off of him. Another sentry would be coming any second now, and—

With a loud _thwip, _Peter launched a web in the direction of the oncoming sentry suit, gripping it tight as it yanked him up out of the sand and into the air. The monster immediately lunged for Peter, grabbing onto his ankle as Peter struggled to hold onto the web rope with his sand-slicked hands.

"Get! Off! Of! Me!" Peter cried as his free leg flailed wildly, finally connecting directly with the sand monster's head and sending him flying out towards the water, his bellowing roar as he splashed into the ocean echoing across the foggy island. Peter winced as the water literally tore the man apart, guilt piercing his heart.

_That guy was probably just another HYDRA slave_, Peter thought, his guilt quickly replaced by panic as he realised he was still stuck to the flying sentry suit and was rapidly approaching the opposite side of the prison. He released the web, dropping down onto the damp sand with a muffled cry and breathing a slight sigh of relief when no further sand monsters appeared.

Just like all of the other elemental monsters, the sandman seemed to be a one-off.

Clutching his side, Peter crawled up to the prison and dropped down to the ground next to it, tipping his head back as he sucked in air. It was highly likely that whoever was in charge of the place had already been alerted to his presence, so he knew that whatever he was going to do next had to be done quickly if he hoped to get Papa out of there before reinforcements arrived.

"C'mon, Peter," he whispered. "C'mon, you can do this!"

Gritting his teeth, Peter pushed himself up to his feet, scanning along the outside wall for a door or a window he could sneak through and letting out a small "whoo!" when he spotted one about ten metres up from the ground. He launched another web, aiming it just below the window and immediately flattening himself against the wall as yet another sentry suit flew by. As soon as it was gone he planted his feet, bracing himself against the wall as he attempted to pry open the window, which was far thicker and stronger than it had initially looked.

"C'mon, Spider-Man, c'mon Spider-Man!" he grunted, his muscles straining against the thick glass and solid steel of the window, finally working it open enough to squeeze through just as another sentry suit passed behind him.

Once inside the prison—which was as dark and dank on the inside as it had been on the outside—Peter clung to the wall, breathing in deep breaths as he scanned his immediate area, his ears picking up the sound of a vicious fight just out of his line of sight. He seemed to be near the ceiling of a massive room, almost as huge as a hockey arena and with the fighting noises off to his left, one of whom sounded an awful lot like—

"Dad?" Peter exclaimed, immediately biting down hard on his lip and cursing himself for being so loud. But the sound of his father's repulsors and flight stabilisers was unmistakable, causing goosebumps to pebble down his arms.

_Oh God, did they really—?_

And then Peter's heart skipped a beat, his head snapping back in shock as he heard his dad's voice.

"Stand down, you HYDRA piece of shit!" he said, strong but mechanical, almost as if he was being controlled by something.

"Tony, please!" Papa cried, the pure agony in his voice causing tears to well in Peter's eyes as something metal crashed against something else metal that sounded a lot like Papa's shield. "You know me! You know there's no way that I'd ever—!"

But Papa was cut off by another repulsor shot, followed a second later by the sound of a hard impact, like he'd been slammed against the floor or a wall.

"Papa!" Peter whimpered, quickly cut off by the _clank, clank, clank _of heavy metal footsteps against the concrete floor.

"Stand down!" Dad ordered. "Final warning!"

_No, no, no, that can't be Dad, _Peter thought as he gave his head a quick shake. _It can't be! I just saw him only—_

How many hours had passed since he had last seen his father? It'd been when Dad had dropped Peter and Gwen off at their restaurant for dinner before the dance, so only about twelve hours, give or take a few minutes. Was that really long enough for HYDRA to grab him and transport him down here? And if so, where was the rest of the team? Were they all here too?

_Oh God, please, no!_

There was a short pause, followed by some shuffling noises interspersed with muffled grunts of pain before Papa spoke again, clear and true even as he sounded like his heart was breaking.

"I can do this all day."

"No!" Peter squeaked, once again chomping down hard on his bottom lip. He had witnessed his dads arguing plenty of times, as they both could be stubborn as hell when they wanted to be. But the thought of them actually coming to blows, of physically _fighting_ each other as they would fight against an enemy…

It was too much for Peter to even wrap his mind around. He had never, _ever_ seen two people who loved each other more than his dads.

_It just can't be possible!_

_Can it?_

"You can't beat him hand to hand!" another male voice suddenly said, gruff and mechanical and so eerily familiar that a shiver raced down Peter's spine, joining the chorus of the nearly continuous ripple warnings from his Spider Sense.

"Duly noted!" said Dad. "STANE, analyse his fight pattern!"

"Stane?" Peter whispered, the very name hitting him like a suckerpunch to the gut. "But why in the hell would—I can't believe—Dad would _never—!"_

"Pattern locked," the voice stated, one that Peter thought he'd never have to hear ever again for as long as he lived. _It can't be! There's no way!_

"Then let's kick his ass!" Dad stated, his armoured fist slamming against whatever shield Papa was carrying, the ear-splitting sound reverberating throughout the massive prison.

There was no way in hell, Hel, Hades, or any other version of a horrible mythical underworld where Dad would _ever_ name one of his UIs after the man who had manipulated him, tormented him, and then tried to not only kill him, but also Peter and Papa more than once. There was just no possible way.

_Then it's not Dad, _a little voice whispered inside Peter's head. _It's only someone pretending to be Dad so they can confuse Papa._

That explanation made a lot more sense, but somehow didn't help Peter feel any better. Papa had been missing for almost a month, and if this was what HYDRA had been doing to him all that time, then—

_Oh my God!_

His hands trembling against the stone wall where he crouched, Peter sucked in as deep a breath as he could. Papa was trying to hide it, as he always did, but Peter had sparred with Papa enough times to recognise when he was reaching his limit, and from what Peter could tell, Papa was already so far beyond his limit that Peter was shocked he was still conscious.

He needed to get Papa out of there, and as soon as possible.

"JARVIS, can you please activate my locator chip?" he whispered. "Broadcast it only to Uncle Clint's hearing aides, okay?"

"Signal activated, Master Peter," replied JARVIS, just as quietly. "Do you require any further assistance?"

"Not sure you can do much else for me at the moment, but I'll keep you updated." Peter had already programmed the chip to send out a Morse Code S.O.S. signal with his current coordinates if his phone happened to get damaged or destroyed, but he was really hoping that he would get the chance to include some info about what kind of opposition the team would be facing once they got there before that.

_I just hope Dad's not too mad at me, _he thought, trying to rustle up his waning courage. _That'll be my third phone this year!_

Pursing his lips, Peter adjusted the mask covering his face and squeezed his eyes closed, preparing to jump from the wall.

_Uncommon valor was a common occurrence, and I've gotta have it._

_Hold on Papa, I'm coming for you._

* * *

"Sir, there's an incoming call from Agent Barton," JARVIS said. "And it is marked as urgent."

"Is the line secure, J?" Tony asked as he set down the pair of glasses he'd been working with and rubbed at his temples. He'd managed to keep the headache that'd been plaguing him ever since the night before to a dull minimum since he and Rhodey arrived in D.C., but it was still there, just simmering beneath the surface, and no amount of coffee seemed to be able to quash it.

There was a series of about five beeps, all varying in pitch and tone before JARVIS spoke up again.

"Line is secure, sir."

"Barton?" Tony said as Clint's face appeared on his monitor, looking as grumpy as ever. "Tell me you've got good news?"

"Don't know if it's good or not, Tony, but I've at least got a location," Clint replied. "About three klicks away from Jekyll Island off the Georgia coast."

"Yeah, okay," Tony said quickly. "JARVIS?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Does that location correspond with what Miss Stacy found on Pete's computer?"

"It would appear to correspond, sir," JARVIS said after a short pause. "However, I am still unable to visualise anything located at those coordinates."

"Yeah, well, apparently Pete could visualise it," Tony muttered. He scrubbed a palm down his face, his heart already thudding a staccato beat against his ribcage. "All right. What's yours and Nat's ETA?"

"Nat and I can be there in about three hours if we drive, which'll probably look the least suspicious," Clint said. "The Quinjet will be faster, and we probably shouldn't all head directly there or someone'll figure it out before we want 'em to."

"Copy that," agreed Tony. "You call Sam yet?"

"Not yet. Thought you'd wanna know first."

"Yeah, I appreciate that," Tony said softly. "J, can you get Sam on the line please?"

Three seconds later Sam Wilson appeared next to Clint, looking like he'd just returned from a hard run.

"Clint got a hit?"

"Yep," answered Tony. "Georgia coast, just like the girl found."

Sam huffed out a sharp breath, nodding. "All right. Clint, you and Nat should take off ASAP, but make a couple stops on the way, don't be too direct. I'll get in touch with Stacy and make sure he's still game, then we'll all converge in Savannah once you and Rhodey get there. You got that drone firing range extended yet?""

"Not yet, but JARVIS is working on it," Tony said. "If nothing else, we'll at least have one of the drones targeting those coordinates by the time we get there."

"Well, one's better than none," said Sam. "And what about actually seeing where we're going?"

"I'm almost done with that too," replied Tony. "I'm reverse-engineering the coding I used when I built Peter's glasses. Once that's done I'll upload it to JARVIS so it'll be available in mine and Rhodey's HUDs."

"Building artificial Spider Vision," Sam said, impressed. "Bummer that you and Rhodey'll be the only ones that'll be able to use it though."

Tony gave a shrug. "Best I can do on short notice, and it's gonna be rough as hell. We won't be able to see much more than some fuzzy outlines, but it'll at least be better than nothing."

"Then it'll have to do," said Sam. "Let's move out."

"Copy that," said Clint. "We'll see ya soon."

"Tony," Sam said as soon as Clint had clicked off. "How're you holding up?"

"I'm fine," Tony said automatically, rolling his eyes when Sam gave him one of Peter's _duh_ looks. "Well, what're you thinking, Sam? My husband's been held captive by a bunch of raving Nazi lunatics for almost a month, and now my son's got it into his head that he's the only one who can save him. How in the hell do you _think _I'm doing?"

"About as well as I think you should be doing," Sam said evenly. "I just want to make sure that you know that you're not alone here, okay?"

"Yeah, Sam, I know that." Tony pinched the bridge of his nose, briefly squeezing his eyes closed. "I honestly don't know what the hell I would do without this team," he said softly. "If it was just me, I'd've already tried to—but I don't—I just don't know if—"

"And that right there is the main reason why we're all here," Sam said. "Because we are a team, and we don't leave our teammates behind, no matter what. Whatever it takes, right?"

Tony gave a firm nod. "Damn right."

"All right. You still okay with letting George Stacy tag along?"

"Long as he doesn't get in the way."

"I'll make sure that he doesn't," said Sam. "I'll send a signal once we're in the air."

"Copy that," Tony said. "Rhodey and I will take off as soon as JARVIS is done upgrading the drone."

"Copy that," Sam said with a nod. "And good luck."

"Yeah. You too. We'll see ya soon."

As soon as the screen went blank Tony pressed his palm to his chest, where Steve's dog tags rested against his heart. Steve had given him the dog tags before he and Nat left on the mission that ended up snowballing into Project Insight, telling him that they symbolised a departing soldier's desire to be reunited with his sweetheart.

And now the cool metal tags resting against Tony's skin were a constant reminder of his desire to be reunited with his soldier.

_And I will_, he thought fiercely. '_Cause I'm sure as hell not gonna accept any alternative._

"JARVIS, how much longer for the firing range upgrade on that drone?"

"It will take approximately forty-five minutes to achieve limited firing capability, sir," JARVIS said. "I'm afraid that I cannot give you an estimate for full capabilities at this time."

"Okay, so how limited is limited?"

"The drone will be able to fire no more than three times at that range before burning out," replied JARVIS. "If I had more time, perhaps I could—"

"But we don't," Tony cut in. "So just… do what you can, yeah?"

"Very good, sir."

"Thanks," Tony said softly. He sighed as he reached down into his shirt, pulling the tags out and pressing them to his lips, trying to imagine that he was kissing Steve instead.

_Hold on, honey. We're coming for you._

* * *

Yet another slam of metal against metal followed immediately by a booming crashing noise, and Peter leaped from his high perch on the wall, landing gracefully on the hard concrete floor. Racing towards the raucous sounds of the fight, he arrived just in time to grab onto the fake Iron Man's arm and keep him from firing his repulsor at Papa, who was doubled over and clutching his side.

"Sorry, asshole!" Peter yelled as he swung Fake Man over his head, crashing the armour to the floor. "But I don't think imitation is the best form of flattery here!"

There was a loud growl as Fake Man got to its feet, its armour scratched and dented where it'd hit the floor.

"Who the hell are you?" it asked in the most evil, bone-chilling version of Dad's voice that Peter could possibly imagine, only amplifying the nearly-continuous shivers bolting down Peter's back.

"I'm Spider-Man," Peter said proudly as he grabbed onto Fake Man's arm again, raising the armoured suit over his head and launching it towards the far wall about thirty metres away. He let out a soft, "Hmph," behind his mask as the armour crashed against the solid stone, shattering into a bunch of pieces that scattered across the floor with very satisfying rattles.

But Peter's elation was short-lived as he heard Papa let out an agonising groan just before spitting an entire mouthful of blood across the floor. He raced over to him, practically tearing the cowl from his head bearing the hateful HYDRA crest before carefully cradling him in his arms.

"It's okay now, Papa, I've got you," Peter said, tears stinging his eyes as Papa attempted to open his, nearly swollen shut and so bruised they were almost black. The uniform he was wearing had the HYDRA symbol stretched across the chestplate, but it was so covered in blood and dust that it was barely recognisable.

"P-peter?" Papa gasped, his right eye opening just enough for him to look up towards Peter's face. But instead of relaxing a bit Papa immediately tensed, his cheeks going pale beneath their multitude of bruises and his hands shaking in fright. "Who—who're you? What've you done with my son? Oh God, what've you done to my son?"

"No, no, no, Papa, it's me! It's Peter!" Peter quickly tore the mask from his head so Papa could see his face, hoping the sight of him would help Papa to calm down. "See? It's me!"

Papa's haunted blue eyes stared up at Peter for several heartbeats as he tried to swallow, no doubt trying to reconcile the garbage HYDRA had been feeding him all this time with the reality that Peter was there, right in front of him.

"Peter," Papa finally choked out, tears welling in his eyes. He reached a shaking hand up to cup Peter's cheek. "It's really you? You're not—you're not just another HYDRA trick?"

"No, Papa, it's really me," Peter managed past the huge lump in his throat. He had tried not to imagine how badly Papa would be hurt by the time he found him, but this… this was so much worse than he'd dared to conjure up in his worst nightmare. His hair and beard were overgrown and matted with sweat and dried blood, there wasn't a single millimetre of his exposed skin that wasn't covered with a bruise or scrape, and judging by the stiff way Papa was lying in his arms, he likely had a multitude of broken bones as well.

"I've come to get you out of this place."

"Get—get me out?" Papa stammered. "But—but—I thought—" He planted his palm against the floor, grimacing as he pushed himself up into a semi-sitting position, his head tilting as he tried to focus in on Peter's face. "Peter, what in the world are you doing here? Is Dad with you?"

Peter frowned, choosing to ignore the question about Dad. "I told you. I'm here to get you out of here." He quickly scanned their surroundings, searching for anything that resembled an exit and hoping that he wouldn't have to heft Papa up the wall to the window he'd snuck through to get in.

"Do you think you can walk?"

"If I have to," Papa said. "But I still don't—" He paused, shaking his head. "I'm not quite sure what's real and what's not anymore."

"It's okay, Papa. We'll be able to fix you up again once we get out of here," Peter said softly as he helped Papa to his feet, draping his arm across his shoulders. He was heavily favouring his left foot, which looked so crushed and misshapen inside the boot he was wearing that it no doubt hurt like absolute hell.

"Dad and the rest of the team should be on their way," Peter whispered after they had taken a tentative step. "So—"

"Should be?" Papa said, hissing in pain when his left toe dragged across the floor. "You mean they're not here yet?"

Peter rolled his eyes. _I should've known… _

"Well, no," he said slowly. "But they are on their way, so—"

"Peter," Papa said sternly, or as sternly as he could with his ragged, pain-laced voice. "You shouldn't be here by yourself."

"Yeah, okay, but can we talk more about this once we get out of here?" Peter said. "'Cause I don't really think that—"

Just then a light flashed, so hot and blindingly red to Peter's eyes that he cried out, releasing Papa and curling into himself as he tried to escape from the burn of it.

"Oh God, it hurts!" Peter cried, fumbling as he tried to slip his mask back on. "Please, make it stop!"

"No!" Papa shrieked from somewhere behind him, sounding very far away. "No, please, don't hurt him! He's only a boy!"

"Papa!" Peter yelled, turning in shock as the prison suddenly disappeared and he found himself standing alone in what looked like a very old graveyard. "Papa? What's happening to me?"

"There's no one else here, Peter," an unfamiliar voice said, causing Peter to whip around. "It's just you."

"Who're you?" Peter shrieked as he took one step back and nearly tripped over a gravestone, almost crumbled into ruin. His heart leapt into his throat as he read the name etched into the stone, the grave so overrun with weeds and tall grasses that he felt like they were suffocating him.

Anthony Edward Stark, beloved husband and father.

A noise somewhere between a choke and a gasp worked its way up from Peter's lungs, only to get lodged in his throat. _No!_ he

screamed inside his mind. _No, it can't be true!_

And right next to it sat another grave, its gravestone in even worse shape, the name barely visible.

Steven Grant Rogers.

_No! This can't be real!_

"Who are you?" Peter called, finally finding his voice again. _It's not real, it's not real, it's not real!_ "Show yourself!"

"No, I don't think so," the voice responded, this time from the opposite direction. "You shouldn't be here, Peter. You're just a silly little kid, don't you know that you should never go off on your own?"

"But—!" Peter started, startled again when an image of Auntie Nat suddenly appeared, her broken, lifeless body lying twisted at the foot of a huge cliff while a hooded Dementor-like figure hovered near the top.

"No!" he yelped as he twisted around again, this time seeing Uncle Clint attacking people in what could only be called a murderous rage, no doubt mad with grief over losing Auntie Nat.

"Oh God, please!" Peter screamed, clapping his hands over his ears. "Please, make it stop!"

"Peter!" another voice suddenly cried, the panicked shriek raising all of the hair on the back of Peter's neck. "Peter, help me!"

"Gwen?" Peter said in disbelief, jumping back in horror as he saw her clinging desperately to the edge of a ledge. "Gwen, what're you doing here?"

But Gwen only shook her head, crying out again when her hands slipped. "Peter! Please, help me!"

"Gwen! Hold—hold on, I'll get you! Just don't let go, okay?"

Gwen gave a nod, her pretty green eyes wide with fear.

_She trusts me, _Peter thought as he fought through the neck-high grasses over to where she was hanging. _I'm gonna—I'm gonna—_

Finally free of the grass, Peter lurched forward, shooting a web just as Gwen's hands slipped free from the railing. He cried out as the web caught her around the waist, just a split-second too late to prevent her head from snapping against the rock-hard floor.

Peter froze for a second, unable to move as he stared at Gwen's crumpled body, his heart so lodged in his throat that he couldn't breathe.

_She—she trusted me! She trusted me to catch her, and I—I didn't!_

"Gwen!" he cried, or rather squeaked, still unable to draw in air as he slid down the web rope to her, cradling her to his chest, her eyes staring blankly ahead.

She was dead.

_I didn't catch her._

_I failed!_

"Please, stop!" another voice cried, barely audible through the blood rushing past Peter's ears. "Leave him alone, he's only a boy!"

But there was no stopping it. There was nothing to stop the shattering of Peter's heart as if it had been made of porcelain instead of flesh and blood. There was nothing to stop the fact that his actions had managed to kill not only his dads, but his beloved Auntie and Gwen as well.

_This is all my fault!_

"I'm so sorry, Gwen," he sobbed as he cupped Gwen's cheek, a single tear dropping to land on her silky blonde hair. "I'm so sorry I didn't catch you!"

_I'm so sorry, Dad. I'm so sorry that I disobeyed you. And now—_

Choking and gasping, Peter clutched Gwen's body to his chest, rocking back and forth as tears flowed down his cheeks.

_What the hell was I thinking? I should've—I should've never— _

_This was all just one massive mistake._

And now, he was paying for it.

* * *

"Goddamnit!" Tony growled as yet another simulation with his new HUD interface dissolved into a mess of pixels in front of his eyes. "JARVIS, we absolutely _need_ this interface to work! What the hell am I missing?"

There was a short pause while the UI pondered the question. "I believe the interface is working, sir. It is simply a problem of your eyes being unable to process the imagery the interface is sending you."

"Oh," Tony said, annoyed that he hadn't thought of that since it made perfect sense. "Well, shit. How in the hell am I supposed to work around that?"

"If you give me a few moments, sir, I believe I can create a sort of work-around," JARVIS said. "However, I do not believe it will be very comfortable for you and Colonel Rhodes to utilise the interface for longer than a few seconds."

"We just need enough time to do a quick recon of the area," Tony said. "And Rhodey and I can take turns using it if we have to. All we need is to see the size of the building and what we're gonna be up against."

"Very good, sir. Please stand by."

Tony impatiently tapped his fingers on the counter as JARVIS ran the simulation, his heart fluttering as a blurred and grainy image suddenly appeared on his monitor. He instinctively squinted, trying to bring the image into better focus, which only made it worse.

"You are going to have to go against your natural visual instincts here, sir," JARVIS said. "In fact, it would actually be best to blink as little as possible when using this interface."

"Yeah, okay," Tony muttered. He huffed out a deep breath, trying to relax his tight shoulders. "Go ahead and try again."

JARVIS ran the simulation again, the grainy image reappearing. Against his instincts Tony forced himself to keep from blinking, trying to gather as much information as he could before his scratchy and exhausted eyes gave up the ghost.

_Jesus Christ, _Tony thought as he finally blinked, his heart fluttering when the image vanished. _No wonder Pete's always getting headaches._

"Yeah, that's better," he said. "Think you can clean it up some more before we have to use it?"

"Unlikely, sir, without Master Peter's assistance," JARVIS answered.

"Damn." Tony pinched the bridge of his nose, cursing the three tons of intense fatigue that had taken up residence across his shoulders, fatigue that hadn't budged since HYDRA ripped Steve away from him.

"All right. Go ahead and run one more diagnostic and then get it uploaded, yeah? Both mine and Rhodey's suits."

"Very good, sir."

Rolling his shoulders, Tony drained the last of the coffee in his cup, looking up as Rhodey walked into the lab, his expression grim.

"Sam just called. Nat and Clint are about an hour out of Savannah, so he wants us to take off within the next thirty minutes. We're gonna meet up with the Quinjet at a small regional airport about fifteen minutes outside of Savannah. Once everyone's there, you and I will do a couple of reconnaissance runs using the new interface to hopefully see what we're up against, and then—"

"Then we storm the prison," Tony finished.

Rhodey gave a short nod. "Yeah. Exactly."

"All right," Tony said, pursing his lips. "Then let's do it."

* * *

Peter woke with a start, his lolled head snapping up and slamming against the concrete wall he was propped against, sending spikes of pain ricocheting throughout his entire body.

"Ow!" he said, the word ripping through his sore throat like a piece of jagged glass. He attempted to move his hand to rub at the bump, but his arm felt as heavy as a lead brick, and after two weak attempts Peter gave up, squeezing his eyes closed and willing the bright stars behind them to go away.

_Where the hell am I? _he thought, because thinking was a tiny bit less painful than speaking, at least for the moment. His head was pounding, and all four of his limbs felt like they had been filled with wet sand, heavy and useless.

Slowly, Peter blinked his eyes open. It took him several heartbeats to focus them enough to even get a brief look at his surroundings, which he then regretted almost as soon as he succeeded. He was alone, sitting in what appeared to be a concrete cell with a single glass wall, with a constant, high-pitched piercing noise in the background that was at just the right tone to continually activate his Spider Sense. The constant bolts of ice racing down Peter's spine only served to add to his overall feeling of dread and shame, the two emotions locked in a constant duel for control inside his head.

_Well, that didn't exactly go as planned, _he thought, almost chuckling at the ridiculousness of it. _Guess I didn't think this through as well as I thought._

And then, not even a second later, _Oh my God, is Papa dead?_

"No!" Peter gasped, ducking his head against his knees in a futile attempt to block out the memories suddenly flooding his mind. A graveyard with Dad and Papa's gravestones crumbling into dust. Auntie Nat's broken, lifeless body. Uncle Clint losing control.

And being just a second too late to save Gwen.

"Oh God," Peter whispered, his fingertips digging into his throbbing head. "What have I done?"

There was a loud _clank_ from down a hall somewhere, followed by the groaning sound of a door opening and then two sets of footsteps, one heavy and one lighter. Peter slowly raised his head as the footsteps came to a halt outside of his cell, the outlines of a man dressed in a fancy suit and a young woman with long red hair visible through the glass window.

"Well, well, well. Who would've thought that the infamous vigilante known as Spider-Man would make his way down here?" the man said, far too jovially for Peter's taste. He clapped his hands, rubbing them together like a child who had just been presented with a shiny new toy.

Which, Peter realised a few seconds later, was probably exactly what the absolute weasel that was Justin Hammer was thinking.

"Go to hell, traitor," Peter spat out, cringing at how pathetic he sounded to his own ears.

"Oh now, now, is that any way to speak to your authority figure, Peter Stark-Rogers?" Hammer said, or rather, sneered. "I would've thought your _fathers _would've taught you better than that. Because you see, the more proper way to have answered would have been, 'good morning'. Or rather, 'good afternoon', if you want to be more specific. And, if I do say so, I think I have the right to be a little sore after you completely trashed my billion-dollar prototype! I mean, was that really necessary?"

"My dads taught me to respect authority that deserves respect. And that Nazis are the lowest form of evil imaginable," Peter retorted, noticing that the red-haired girl gave a very obvious flinch at the word Nazi, almost like it physically pained her. "I guess we should've figured it out sooner that it'd be you who would choose to sink that low."

"Yes, well, we prefer not to use that particular term around here," Hammer said, glancing rather nervously at the girl. He leaned forward, lowering his voice. "You know, since it kinda has a negative connotation to it." Then he clapped his hands again, causing both Peter and the girl to jump. "But anyway, I'm not here to argue semantics with a smart-ass teenager, of all people. What I'm here for is to—"

But he was cut off by a massive crashing sound, followed immediately by three repulsor blasts and several gunshots. Hammer jumped back with a frightened, "Whoa!" just as Peter pulled himself to his feet, stumbling towards the window of his cell and pounding his palm against it.

"Daddy!" he cried. "Daddy, I'm here! I'm in here!"

"Barton, you and Romanoff take Stacy's team and search for Steve!" came the commanding voice of Uncle Sam, muffled through the thick glass—which obviously wasn't glass, now that Peter thought about it—of his cell. "And Tony, you and Rhodey work on picking off the rest of those flyers."

"Copy that!" said Dad from somewhere Peter couldn't quite see, and he almost collapsed with relief. Dad was here. They were all gonna be okay now.

Or at least, he thought so. But in the three or so seconds that it took for him to step back from the window, somehow an entire army of the same kind of sentry suits that had been circling the perimeter of the prison had assembled in the corridor outside of Peter's cell, with Justin Hammer standing at the forefront, looking on like a proud father.

"Oh God," Peter gasped, his belly giving a violent swoop as he realised on second thought that no, they were not the same kind of sentry suits that had been circling the prison's perimeter. Instead, the suits now standing at attention in front of Peter's window had all been outfitted with Chitauri tech stolen from the Department of Damage Control, which Peter feared meant that they were pretty much indestructible.

And if that was the case, then he, Papa, Dad, and the entire rest of the Avengers' team—his entire _family_—had just walked right into the biggest stone, steel, and concrete trap they had ever seen in their lives, and one that was completely invisible to the outside eye.

HYDRA had just succeeded in their biggest magic trick to date.

They had made the Avengers disappear.

* * *

**_I can't wait to see what you think! Please don't hesitate to leave me a review! :)_**


	19. Chapter 19

_**This chapter contains clinical descriptions of some pretty severe injuries. It's nothing that I would consider overtly graphic, but please be aware if you are sensitive to that kind of thing. :) **_

* * *

Tony had never been more grateful for his face mask than he was in that moment. During his time as a weapons manufacturer and socialite, Tony had perfected the art of hiding his true thoughts and emotions behind the mask of a flippant attitude and an I-don't-give-a-damn-what-you-think-of-me smile.

But there in that moment, standing face to face with a man he'd always despised but never thought as anything more than a bothersome troublemaker, Tony had to admit that there was no way he would've been able to hide the massive cauldron of emotions threatening to boil over. By aligning himself with HYDRA, Justin Hammer had literally sold his soul to the devil, and was therefore complicit in every single thing that HYDRA had done since Project Insight.

Including the capture and torture of Steve, which, in Tony's opinion, was all the motivation that he needed to want to kill him.

"Tony," Rhodey said quietly from next to him, his arms raised and aimed at the army squadron of suits assembled behind Hammer. He heard a _whoosh_ as Sam come to an abrupt landing about a metre behind him and assumed the rest of the team was also falling in, already scanning their surroundings for a possible way out.

"Tony, are you seeing this?"

"Yeah, I see it," Tony responded, low and tight, his arms not wavering a single centimetre. "Does anyone have eyes on Steve or Pete?"

"No, but if I had to guess I'd say that we're pretty close," answered Natasha. "This Hammer guy likes an audience, doesn't he?"

Tony's upper lip curled into a sneer behind his mask. "Yeah, he does. He's a real peacock, that one."

"Okay, so… what're we gonna do?" asked Clint. "'Cause I hate to say it, but—"

"Then don't, 'cause it won't help anything," Sam said firmly. "Tony, we're pretty much trapped inside a tin can here. We need to get this place opened up somehow or they'll just end up squashing us like a bunch of bugs."

"Agreed," said Tony. He was starting to feel claustrophobic anyway, stuck inside yet another dank, dark, concrete and stone HYDRA bunker. And what was it about all the HYDRA bunkers being so grey and dark, anyway? Whoever designed their fortresses sure had a severe lack of imagination. Hadn't they ever heard of colours? Or windows?

Clearing his throat, Tony planted his feet and squared his shoulders, keeping his repulsors aimed directly at Hammer's chest.

"So tell me, _Mister_ Hammer," Tony said, dripping with false sincerity. "What exactly did HYDRA promise you in return for not only betraying your country, but also torturing a U.S. citizen and kidnapping a minor? 'Cause I'm guessing that it'd have to be a pretty damn good offer since there's no way in _hell_ that you're ever getting out of this."

Hammer's eyes went wide behind his thousand-dollar glasses, and he smiled, a sadistic smile that caused Tony's blood to crystallise into ice in his veins.

He had always known that Justin Hammer was a jealous, petty man who shamelessly used anyone that he could in order to try to get ahead, but this went even beyond that.

Because the man standing in front of Tony was truly and completely _mad._

"Well, I'd appreciate it if you could bear with me for a moment, Anthony, because I'm a bit confused," Hammer said, clasping his hands together. "How exactly am I at a disadvantage here? Because I know I'm not quite the expert on military tactics as Captain Rogers might be, but I do believe that—"

"Don't you _even _mention his name!" Tony snapped. He took a step forward, which immediately prompted the suit to Hammer's left to aim its repulsor at Tony's chest. "Steve Rogers has more honour in his left pinky toenail that you could ever hope to have in your entire life, so you just keep his name out of your filthy mouth, you got that?"

Hammer blinked, giving a slight cough as he fiddled with the fancy silk tie around his neck. The man had always had a flair for the dramatic.

"Well, as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, _Anthony_… You know, one would think that the great and powerful Anthony Stark would have better manners than that. I mean, Howard always had impeccable manners, but I guess that's one thing that he didn't seem to pass down to his son, so—"

"Don't, Tony!" Rhodey hissed when Tony took another step forward. "You know he's just trying to bait you, don't give into it!"

Tony let out a soft growl, gritting his teeth as he stepped back again. Rhodey was right; the last thing they needed now was to start fighting before they had any semblance of a plan in place.

Besides, didn't Peter always say that the bad guy always had to get his monologue in first? May as well let Hammer have his time in his so-called spotlight before things got messy.

"Okay, so, what's your plan then, Hammer?" Tony asked. "You just gonna send out your souped-up suit army here to terrorise everyone who doesn't agree with you? Keep the masses in line, so to speak?"

Hammer chuckled, wagging his finger in Tony's direction. "You always were quite the jokester, weren't you, Anthony? Always so charming, always ready with the quippy one-liners that had everyone rolling and clutching their pearls." The smile dropped from his face as he started to pace back and forth. "As a matter of fact, these babies were initially designed to be defensive only, much like those fancy-schmancy drones that you have mounted on all of those buildings of yours. But now that you and your friends are here, I'm thinking that it might be time for a bit of a test." He turned abruptly, an evil smile stretching across his lips. "You know, since you all just broke in here uninvited and all."

"That tends to happen when you take someone's husband and son prisoner, Hammer!" Tony retorted. "Now, where the hell are they?"

But instead of responding, Hammer only turned to the suits standing in formation behind him, giving them a thumbs-up sign.

"You know, you can't really blame me, Anthony," Hammer said as he turned back around. "I mean, you went ahead and created a sword with untold possibilities and then tried to insist that it was only a shield, so at least I'm not a hypocrite, like you are. I built these suits to be an army, and an army they're gonna be!"

Rage flooded Tony's veins, burning through the ice. How _dare_ Justin Hammer, a complete asshole who never had an original idea in his life, compare his slapped together monstrosities built with stolen alien tech with the Iron Man armour that Tony built to personally exact revenge on the terrorists who tortured his beloved boy and killed Yinsen?

"You goddamn sick son of a bitch! How _dare_ you—!"

"Ah, guys?" Natasha cut in as the suits powered up, the collective whine of their flight stabilisers almost drowning out the Avengers' comms. "Whatever we're gonna do we better do it soon, 'cause it seems like Hammer's done talking."

"Never thought I'd see the day," Tony muttered. He turned his head just enough to glance in Sam's direction. "We've only got three shots available, so we gotta make 'em count."

Sam pursed his lips, glancing towards the ceiling and walls of the prison as he weighed all of the possibilities. The bunker they were trapped in was much larger than the bunker had been down in Miami and also much more wide open, which was actually a disadvantage for the Avengers since only three of the team members could fly.

Which meant that Hammer's suits would most likely target the non-flyers first, which meant that he needed to somehow draw the flyers away from them, which meant that—

"The roof," Tony muttered, hoping that Sam would be able to figure out what he meant. If they could blow a hole in the roof and escape through it, that would force the suits out into the open in order to chase them, giving the non-flyers more room to scatter and take cover.

And, more time find Steve and Peter and get them the hell out of there.

"Three shots targeting the same spot should do it."

"Copy that," said Sam. "You sure you wanna use all three shots for one thing though?"

"Don't see that we've got much of a choice," Tony replied. "If we don't get those suits into some open air it'll be just like you said. They'll squash us all like bugs. Plus it'd be nice if we could break through their cloak and give Bruce a chance to hack into their files before they manage to delete everything."

"Stark, my team has located Captain Rogers," came the voice of George Stacy from somewhere behind him. He and his seven-man team of police and FBI support must've assembled in behind them while Hammer was yammering. "He's in a cell behind what appears to be a wall of glass that's about thirty paces off to our right."

Tony's heart immediately leapt into his throat. "How is he? Stacy? Tell me how he is! Is he hurt?"

"He is badly injured, Mr Stark, but he is alive," Stacy said solemnly. "I saw him myself, so he knows we're here."

"Oh, Christ," Tony breathed, his knees nearly buckling in relief.

_Steve was alive. He was hurt, but he was alive._

"Oh, shit!" Rhodey exclaimed as one of Hammer's suits started to lift off from the floor. "Tony, whatever you're gonna do you better do it now, 'cause I'm pretty sure we're out of time!"

Tony breathed in, clenching his jaw. "JARVIS, on my mark, find the weakest spot that you can on this roof and blast it to hell, yeah? Two shots if you can do it, all three if you have to."

"The drone is armed and ready, sir," JARVIS replied.

"All right," Tony said as he powered up his boots. "JARVIS, mark!"

Not even a second later a massive blast shook the complex just as the first Hammer suit became airborne. Tony immediately took off in the direction of the blast, and was about three metres or so away from the ceiling when the second blast hit, opening an entire spider-web of cracks in the thick concrete that looked on quick glance to be deep enough for him to break open.

"Two shots seemed to have done it, sir!" JARVIS said quickly.

"Copy that! And here goes nothing!" Tony muttered, squeezing his eyes closed as he circled back around and slammed into the ceiling, sending broken shards of concrete and shingles flying as he broke through, followed shortly by three of the Hammer suits.

"Rhodey!" Tony shouted as he dove towards the ground. From what he had already seen of the Hammer suits in action he could tell that they couldn't bank worth a damn, just like the Chitauri equipment on which they were based.

"I'm already on your six, Tony," Rhodey said, his words interspersed with HYDRA repulsor and rifle shots as he broke through the hole in the roof, widening it just enough for Sam to fly through with his wings expanded. "And it looks like they're taking the bait!"

"Copy that!" Tony said, grunting as he pulled out of his dive at the last possible second, letting out a triumphant, "woohoo!" when the suit on his tail proceeded to crash into the rocky shoreline. "That's one!"

"Nice flying there, Tony," said Sam. "Barton, you, Nat and Bucky coordinate with Stacy's team to take out the rest of the personnel inside the prison. Once they're all secured, you guys find Steve and Peter and then get the hell outta there."

"Copy that," Clint and Natasha said simultaneously.

"Copy, Mr Wilson," said Stacy. "There is a bit of a problem, though. I'm not sure how we're supposed to get inside Captain Rogers' cell."

"What the hell does that mean?" Tony snapped, swearing as the Hammer suit tailing him fired a compact missile, impacting it between his shoulder blades and briefly knocking him off course. "What do you mean you can't get in?"

"I mean exactly that, Mr Stark," replied Stacy. "I'm standing right in front of his cell right now, but there's no door or any other exit that I can find and Captain Rogers can't locate one on the inside either. There's just this massive window, but it's not made out of any kind of glass that I've ever seen before."

_What the hell?_ Tony thought. He didn't remember the Chitauri tech including glass that wasn't glass, so what the hell else could it be?

"All right, we'll work on that when we can," Sam said from the opposite side of the prison. "Just keep Steve secure in the meantime, yeah?"

"We will, sir," said Stacy, followed by a series of three gunshots. "He's also very concerned for Peter, says he thinks that he saw him briefly before they were both overpowered."

"Hold on," Tony said. He banked suddenly and swooped down, allowing the suit tailing him to fly overhead which he quickly took out with a well-aimed missile right below the neck, the only weak spot that he'd been able to asses on the suits so far.

"Steve only _thinks _that he saw Pete?" Tony asked, his heart slamming against his ribcage. He hadn't even considered the possibility that Peter wasn't even on the premises. "He doesn't know for sure?"

Stacy hesitated before replying. "Um… to put it delicately, Mr Stark, Captain Rogers is pretty distraught. He has to be in a lot of pain, from the looks of him, and he's also told us that HYDRA has been drugging him, so—"

"Yeah, yeah, okay," Tony said. He swallowed hard, trying to keep his focus on the Hammer suits trying to kill him. _Pete wouldn't've led us here if he wasn't here too._ "We've got Bruce and our personal physician standing by, so once we're able to get him out I'm sure she'll be able to get him fixed up in no time."

"Copy that," Stacy said through yet another gunshot. "Most of the flying suits have exited the building, but we're still rooting out the rest of the ground personnel inside."

"Then make sure you guys watch your backs," Sam said, swooping over Tony's head, his dual guns blazing. "I don't really feel like having any civilian casualties on my hands today."

"Copy that!"

"Rhodey, Sam, target just below the neck!" Tony called as he dodged yet another repulsor blast, screeching to a halt before launching another missile. "That's the only weak spot I've been able to find, so we gotta exploit it!"

"Gotcha, Tony!" Sam yelled as he landed directly on top of one of the suits, aiming his guns at its neck. "Good call!"

"God_damnit_!" Tony shouted as he was slammed in the back by yet another missile, this one managing to dent his armour. "JARVIS, how many more of these fuckers are there?"

"I am unable to get a completely accurate count while you are in motion, sir, but if I had to guess I'd say there are at least twenty remaining functional suits," answered JARVIS.

"Twenty? How in the hell are there still that many?" Tony cried. "We've already taken out at least a dozen of 'em, and—"

"Yes sir, but I'm afraid Mr Hammer has just recalled several of the suits back inside the structure," said JARVIS. "It appears that he underestimated the ease with which you were able to take them out."

"That's 'cause a cheap copy is never as good as the original," Tony said with a sneer as he turned on a dime, huffing with satisfaction as yet another Hammer suit crashed into the side of the bunker.

_See? I can bank worth a damn!_

"Very true, sir."

"Tony, they'll be fish in a barrel inside that building," Sam said. "We've gotta try and keep the suits out in the open or else we'll have to call a Code Green, and I really don't want to have to do that."

"That'd be my preference as well," Bruce suddenly piped up over the comm. "The hole you guys blew in the ceiling took out both HYDRA's cloaking ability and the sensor jam, so I'm trying to transfer as many files as I can before they're gone. We're gonna need all the evidence we can get to root out all the moles they've got scattered across the world."

"Copy that," Tony replied as he swerved, heading back towards the hole in the roof. "Then I think it's time for a new plan."

* * *

At the moment Peter couldn't tell what was worse: the fact that his entire family was out there being forced to fight against a bunch of Chitauri-enhanced suits, or the fact that he was essentially stuck inside an impenetrable box, unable to help them.

He had already tried punching through the glass wall of his cell, badly bruising his knuckles in the process when the wall didn't budge in the slightest. It obviously wasn't glass, but as to what it could possibly be Peter had no idea. He only knew that he had to get out of there.

But with no other visible doors or exits he couldn't figure how it would be possible, and he couldn't remember being put in there in the first place since it was right after he'd been forced to see all of those horrible visions.

Suppressing a shudder, Peter stepped up to the window, placing his palms against it. The Hammer suits had all taken off after Dad and Uncle James, but just in the last minute or so he could hear them returning, apparently trying to track down the ground personnel still inside the building.

_I've gotta get out of here!_ he thought desperately. He had no idea what had happened to Papa after he was taken away, but Peter had a bad feeling that it wasn't anything good. Papa was in such rough shape that Peter couldn't understand how he was even still alive, and he knew they had to find him as soon as possible.

"Hello?" Peter yelled, slapping his palms hard against the transparent wall, cringing as the pounding in his head ramped back up to an almost unbearable level. "Hello? Is anyone out there?"

Several minutes passed as Peter waited, the bunker echoing with the fierce sounds of gunshots, metal crashing against stone, and lots and lots of shouting. From what he had gathered from the various voices barking orders, Gwen's father was there in the bunker with the rest of the team along with a few other police officers, which hopefully meant that the rest of the world would soon be aware of exactly what had been going on there.

Or at least it would be if the good guys managed to win, which at the moment didn't quite seem like a given.

"Hello?" Peter screamed again, slapping the wall so hard that it sent pain shooting up his arms like a million tiny electrical charges. "Please, someone let me out of here!"

Once again he waited for what seemed like an eternity, and was just about to give up and try and figure out something else when suddenly the red-haired girl appeared off to the side, her arms wrapped around her front and her shoulders shaking in fear.

"Hey, hey, hey?" Peter said as he waved at her, trying to be as polite as possible in his franticness. His Spider Sense was being continually activated with everything that was going on around them, but the girl herself didn't appear to be a direct threat.

"I'm sorry, I'm afraid that I don't know your name, but can you help me get out of here?"

The girl startled, almost as if she wasn't used to being addressed in such a manner. She took a single step forward, biting her lip.

"I'm—I'm not supposed to talk to you," she said in an accent that Peter couldn't quite place, and barely loud enough for him to hear over the deafening roar of the battle.

"Oh, don't worry, I won't tell anyone," Peter assured her. "I was just wondering if you knew how I could get out of here?"

The girl's face drained of colour so fast that Peter was afraid she was about to pass out, and she rapidly shook her head. "I can't—I'm not—I'm not supposed to—I'm sorry, I need to go—"

"No!" Peter shrieked, causing her to whip around, her eyes wide. "No, please don't go away. I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to scare you, I just…" He took a deep breath, forcing himself to smile. "My name is Peter. Peter Stark-Rogers. What's yours?"

She tilted her head, as if she was trying to remember that she actually had a name. "Wanda," she finally said. "Wanda Maximoff."

"Oh," Peter said with a nod. "Um… hi. It's nice to meet you. I'm fifteen, how old are you?"

For a moment Wanda looked confused. "I'm—I'm eighteen."

"Oh, so you're not much older than me," Peter said. He sucked in a deep breath, contemplating his next question. "Have you been here a long time?"

Wanda's lower lip shook as glanced around, making sure she couldn't be overheard. "Yes," she whispered, almost conspiratorially. "Ever since they killed my father."

"Oh no," Peter said softly. "I am so, so sorry about that. HYDRA killed him?"

"Yes. He refused to help them, said he would rather die first," Wanda said. "His parents were killed in a work camp during one of the last big wars, so… the thought of working for people like that, he just—he couldn't take it." A tear rolled down Wanda's cheek that she quickly brushed away. "He tried to escape here one night, but he—this place, there wasn't enough metal in it for him to be able to get out, not with me and my brother, so they caught him again, and—"

She broke off then, covering her face with her hands. "They made my brother and me watch while they—while they killed him, and then they took us and gave us some kind of drug, and—"

"And it burned, right?" Peter asked, letting out a hard shudder. "The drug? It burned going in?"

"Like fire," Wanda said, sniffing. "Like my very blood had turned into molten lava." She shot him a quizzical look. "You know of this?"

"Yeah, I do, 'cause they did the same thing to me," answered Peter. "It was a different place, and they were different people, but they were still HYDRA. They were trying to take over my mind, only… it didn't quite work."

Wanda took a step back, scrubbing the tears from her cheeks with her palms. "Well, I guess you're stronger than I was, 'cause I couldn't fight them. They gave me that drug, and it poisoned my mind so that now all they have to do is say the words, and—"

"And you turn into one of them," Peter finished.

"Yes," Wanda said, surprised. "But how—how do you know?"

"'Cause it's like I told you. They tried to do the same thing to me, only it didn't exactly work the way they thought it would," Peter said. "I'm… well… I guess you could say that I'm a bit different from most people, and so the words didn't affect me the same way. But one of my uncles, those words used to work on him. HYDRA had taken him and turned him into a cold-blooded killer, so once we found him my dad developed a piece of technology that was able to take the words out of his head. And now he's free of them, and so am I. And I know that my dad would be willing to do the same for you and your brother once we get out of here."

A particularly loud _crash_ caused them both to jump, with Wanda clapping her hands over her ears. "I can't. I just… I'm sorry, but I can't," she murmured, shaking her head. "If they catch me helping someone again then they'll hurt my brother, and I can't let that happen. He's already been through so much trying to protect me. My father—my father made him promise that he would, before—"

"Okay, but please, just listen to me?" Goosebumps covered nearly Peter's entire body from the shivers running down his spine, and the battle sounds were getting louder and more frantic. The odds did not seem to be in the Avengers' favour at the moment, so Peter needed to be out there, helping his family.

"I know that what I'm about to say probably won't mean much, and I'm really sorry if it comes across as petty or unsympathetic, but I really, really need to get out of here. That's my entire family out there right now that's fighting against those horrible robots, and they really could use my help. So if there's any way that you would know how to get me out of here, I can't tell you how much I would appreciate it."

Wanda's eyebrows knitted together as she looked Peter up and down. "How would you be able to help the Avengers?"

Peter frowned, holding out his hands. "It's a bit hard to explain. I know I don't exactly look it, but I'm—I'm really, really strong. And sticky. I can climb walls and stuff, so—"

"So you're like me!" Wanda said in a rush, glancing furtively down at her hands. "And my brother, and my father! You're a—you're a—?"

"Yeah, I'm enhanced, I guess you'd call it," Peter answered. "And so's my papa and some of my uncles, but my papa's been hurt real bad so my dad and the rest of the team needs my help." He huffed out a sharp breath, pressing his forehead against the window. "Can you please just let me out of here? Please? I promise that my dad will be able to help both you and your brother once all this is over, but that's not gonna happen unless I can get out of here."

"Your papa, he is Captain Rogers?" asked Wanda.

Peter gave a nod, flinching as he heard another crash of metal against stone. "Yeah, that's him. And my dad is Iron Man."

Once again Wanda's eyes filled with fear, and she glanced down at her hands, twisting them as flashes of bright red light sparkled between her fingers. Peter instinctively gulped and stepped back; apparently she was the one who had caused him to have that horrible vision where he saw Dad and Papa's graves, and saw Gwen fall to her death.

And if that was the case, then Peter didn't think he wanted to know what she'd been forced to make Papa see, not to mention the fact that Papa thought he was fighting against Dad when Peter first got there. No wonder Papa had told him that he didn't know what was real anymore.

"I don't—I don't know. I've done—they've made me do so many terrible things. I've—I've hurt so many people… made them see their worst fears as if they were happening. If I were to ever go out there everyone would be afraid of me, so I don't think—"

"Look," Peter interrupted, suppressing another shiver. It was time to try a different approach. "Do you like to read? Books? Before they brought you here, did you ever like to read books?"

"Sometimes," Wanda answered, obviously confused. "But I don't see how—?"

But Peter didn't even let her finish. "Okay, so for school this year I had to read this book called _Frankenstein, _which is about a kind of a weird scientist guy who creates a sort of creature that everyone views as a monster. But the monster's not really a monster, he's actually just kinda lonely. You know, trying to find his place in a world where everyone's scared of him. And so he asks his creator, the scientist, if he'll make him a companion, someone else like him so he doesn't have to be lonely anymore. But the scientist says no, you see, 'cause he's already afraid of his own creation, and he thinks if he makes another one that he'll lose control of them both."

Wanda twisted her hands again, no doubt thinking of her brother.

"Um, can your brother run really fast?" Peter asked gently. "Is that why they keep him locked up?"

"Yes," Wanda whispered. "They only let him out when they need him to do something for them. And they always use the words first, so he never even remembers what he's done afterwards." She paused, chomping down hard on her bottom lip. "But for some reason, I can always remember what I've done, which is why—" Another tear streaked its way down her cheek. "It's why your papa is afraid of me now. Whenever he sees me, he's terrified. I can see it in his eyes."

"Oh," Peter said, feeling like he'd just been punched in the gut. The last thing Papa needed was more fodder for his nightmares.

"Um… well, that's probably even more reason to try and get those words out of your mind though, don't you think?" Peter said. "Then they won't be able to control you anymore. You'll have your own mind back. And we can do the same for your brother too, but you gotta let me out of here first, okay? Please?"

There was a pause as Wanda pondered Peter's words, her hands wringing and twisting in front of her, generating little flashes of red.

"What ends up happening to the monster?" she asked. "In your schoolbook, what happens to him?"

Peter breathed in, squaring his shoulders. "He ends up destroying his creator, and then he goes free."

Wanda's frightened eyes went wide, and she swallowed hard, closing her hands into tight fists as she nodded.

"I'll be right back," she said firmly. And then she turned on her heel and walked away, heading in the opposite direction of the battle.

"Um… okay," Peter said as he watched her go, flinching at another ear-splitting crash. "Then I guess I'll just wait here?"

He impatiently tapped his fingers on the not-glass as he waited for her to return, trying not to itch at the healing cuts on his face and growing more and more anxious by the second until he saw her coming back towards him, a slim metal device in her hand that kinda looked like a pen.

"This will unlock the cell," she said, touching the device to the window. Peter couldn't help but let out an amazed, "Whoa!" as the not-glass immediately began to dissolve right in front of him, creating a hole just large enough for him to get through.

"What exactly is this stuff?" Peter said as soon as he'd stepped into the hallway. He reached behind him, relieved to find his mask still attached to his suit.

"I don't know the name of it," said Wanda. "All I know is that HYDRA stole it from a country that's known only in legends."

"Yeah, well, that's not shocking." He pulled on his mask, glancing in both directions as he tried to get his bearings. "I need to find my papa. Will you help me?"

Peter's belly gave a hard swoop when Wanda shook her head, holding up the device. "I need to find my brother first. I just—I took this from our lead scientist's things, and if I'm discovered—"

"Yeah, okay," Peter said rapidly. "But will you come back once you find him? My papa is hurt, and I need to get him out of here so the doctor can help him."

"I promise. As soon as I find Pietro, I'll come and help you."

"Okay," Peter said. "Thank you."

With a final nod, Wanda trotted off as Peter headed for the huge, arena-like area, his eyes widening in shock as one of the Hammer suits flew by him, repulsors aimed and firing right at Dad's heels, the left of which was sputtering slightly. He quickly launched a web, grabbing the suit around its ankle and digging his heels into the hard concrete floor.

"Oh no you don't!" he said, straining against the web as the suit attempted to jerk itself free. Grunting, Peter slowly pulled the suit towards him, finally getting enough leverage so he could slam it down onto the floor, sending pieces of it skittering across the concrete.

"Птер?" Uncle Bucky exclaimed as he came careening around the corner, narrowly avoiding being hit by one of the flying components as he skidded to a stop. "Holy shit, where'd you come from? Are you all right?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Peter said, ducking as Uncle Bucky aimed at another suit at least twenty metres away, landing a perfect shot between the thing's neck and shoulder. "Where's Papa, did you guys find him yet?"

"The cop, Stacy, he's keeping an eye on Стив while we try to figure out how to get him outta his box," said Uncle Bucky. "But by my count, we've still got about ten or so of these damn things left so it might be awhile."

"Okay, but…" Peter couldn't help it; he just had to ask. "Um… do you know if Gwen's okay? She's not—she didn't get hurt, did she?"

"Uhh, far as I know your girl's back in New York," Uncle Bucky said, obviously confused. "It's only her dad that came with us. Why?"

"Oh, nothing, just making sure," Peter said with a rapid shake of his head. "Um… there's a red-haired girl, her name's Wanda, and she was being held captive here too. She's the one who got me out of my cell, and she told me that once she found where they were keeping her brother, she was gonna head down to get Papa out."

Uncle Bucky gave a nod as he aimed his rifle again, letting out a muttered curse when a sudden explosion behind them knocked him off balance just enough to miss the shot.

"C'mon, Птер, we should be getting you outta here—"

"No. I'm gonna stay and help," Peter said firmly just as yet another suit flew in through the hole in the roof, aiming directly for Uncle Sam. Peter immediately launched another web, catching the suit around its neck as it flew overhead.

"Oh boy," Peter muttered as he was suddenly yanked off his feet. He shimmied up the web rope, the suit diving and swerving like a wild bronco trying to buck off its rider as Peter climbed up onto its back.

"This might not have been one of my better ideas!"

"Pete, is that you? What the hell are you doing?" Dad yelled as he flew by, aiming blast after blast at the suit he was tailing. Dad's armour was dented and covered with dings and bullet holes, and looked to be on the verge of completely losing power. From Peter's perspective, he definitely needed the help.

"Hey, Dad!" Peter called as Dad finally landed a shot right below the Hammer suit's neck, sending it crashing towards the floor.

"And… uh… I'm not exactly sure," he said under his breath, barely able to hold on as the suit he was riding abruptly changed course again. He scanned its head and neck area, figuring that the team was targeting that section for a reason. "Below the neck, below the neck, below the neck. Ah yeah, there it is!"

Apparently Justin Hammer, and Quentin Beck, for that matter, had thought it was a good idea to put their suits' secondary power relay in a vulnerable spot. It was the ultimate in arrogance to think that nothing would ever be able to actually get behind the suit to target it, since severing that connection was enough to cause a catastrophic power failure in the entire thing.

"No wonder Hammer's company never sold anything of actual importance!" Peter said, grunting as he wiggled his fingers into the juncture between the suit's neck and shoulder and proceeded to yank out the relay. The suit immediately let out a loud whine, sputtering as Peter pulled hard on his web rope, trying to steer it away from the oncoming wall of the bunker.

"Okay, turn! Turn! Turn! Please, _turn!"_ he begged, finally getting the suit to shift just enough to avoid crashing into the wall before guiding it to a semi-smooth landing on the concrete floor.

"Yeah," Peter said as he hopped off, quickly backing away. "Yeah, don't think I'll be doing _that_ again anytime soon!"

"Pete?" Dad yelled as he flew overhead again, with Uncle James not too far behind. "Pete, you stand down now, okay? There's only two or three of these bastards left and we've got 'em!"

"But—!"

"And don't you even think about arguing with me, you got that?" Dad snapped before Peter could barely get a word out. "You're already in hot water, don't you go adding more to it!"

Peter scowled behind his mask, his shoulders sagging.

_Well… fine! Be that way!_

With a huff, Peter took off jogging towards the opposite end of the bunker, hoping to run into Wanda or Mr Stacy or someone else who might know where Papa was being kept. He was beyond ready to get out of there and go home.

* * *

Tony cursed as he swerved yet again, trying to compensate for the power fallout in his left boot as he aimed the last of his arm missiles at the back of the Hammer suit in front of him.

"Take that, you ugly piece of shit!" he muttered as the missile embedded itself right below the neck of the suit and exploded, shearing the suit's head clean off before the rest of it impacted against the wall.

"Rhodey, how many more?"

"Three, by my count," said Rhodey as he flew past Tony, shooting as he went and managing to trap another suit between himself and the wall, taking it out with a well-aimed machine gun shot.

"Nope, on second thought, now there's just two."

"All right, then," Tony said, pursing his lips as he took after one of the suits trying to escape back through the hole in the roof. Tony ducked down, coming up directly underneath it and activating his laser just as they both exited the bunker to an unexpected flash of bright sunlight. Tony winced, distracted by the light just long enough to allow the Hammer suit time to swing around and knock him between the shoulder blades with one of their Chitauri grenade thingys.

"Goddamnit!" Tony yelled, grunting in pain as he dove down, trying to shake the stupid thing off his tail. That was the third direct hit that he'd taken in that very same spot, and he was definitely starting to feel it. "Rhodey? Where the hell are you?"

"On it!" Rhodey replied in a boom of afterburners, flying past Tony while launching his own grenades. One of them happened to explode right next to the suit's leg, knocking it off-course just enough for Tony to re-aim his laser below the thing's neck, knocking out the critical power relay as he breathed out a huge sigh of relief.

"Mr Stark?" Stacy suddenly said over the comm. "I have Captain Rogers here, sir, he's been released from his cell."

"Oh sweet Jesus," Tony breathed, tears of relief stinging his eyes. "Then get him the hell out of there, okay? Helen and Bruce should be arriving in a chopper anytime now, and—"

"Um, I'm sorry, Mr Stark, but he's refusing to leave the building," interrupted Stacy. "He says he won't leave until he knows for sure that his family is safe."

"Oh good grief, Steve," Tony grumbled, rolling his eyes. _Goddamn stubborn soldier._ Apparently being held in captivity by HYDRA for almost a month hadn't made a dent in _that_ aspect of his husband's personality.

Which, Tony had to admit, was likely the main reason why he was still alive in the first place.

"All right then, fine. But make sure he's kept out of any of the lines of fire, you got that?"

"There are ten of us here, Mr Stark, including Peter and the young lady who opened the cell, and her brother, who I'm pretty sure just took out most if not all of the resistance left inside here. Sergeant Barnes and Agent Romanoff just went to have a final look."

"Copy that," Tony said, circling back towards the far section of the bunker just in time to see what he hoped was the final suit crash down onto the ocean-drenched rocks.

"Pretty sure that one was it," Rhodey replied as he flew back around, stopping to hover across from Tony. "Falcon, can you confirm?"

"Doing a final sweep of the perimeter now, and all I'm seeing is a lot of debris," said Sam. "Looks like we did it, guys."

"Okay, so—"

"Tony, go to your husband," Sam said. "That's an order."

A lump the size of a marble rose in Tony's throat.

"Yes, sir."

Shifting course, Tony flew back towards the hole in the roof with his heart stuttering, landing on the concrete floor not too far away from where Bucky stood guarding a handcuffed Justin Hammer, his expression suggesting that he wished he could squeeze Hammer's head in with his metal hand. Next to Hammer sat Quentin Beck, who shot a sharp glare in Tony's direction before returning his gaze to the feet of his guarding police officer, with a third man with salt-and-pepper hair sitting next to Beck and shaking his head.

But aside from that brief passing glance, Tony's entire focus was on his husband and son, sitting against the far wall surrounded by the rest of their family.

"JARVIS, copy everything that you see in my HUD right now and send it to Pepper," Tony ordered, zooming in first on Peter's bruised and bleeding cheeks, then scanning across Steve's battered body as best as he could through the crowd of Avengers, police, and FBI agents. "Please also ask her if she wouldn't mind getting some preliminary media statements ready, but only with people she trusts. I wanna make sure the entire world knows what those assholes were doing here."

"Very good, sir," JARVIS said. "And Dr Banner reports that he and Dr Cho are about five minutes out. They are planning on transporting Captain Rogers to an Atlanta hospital once he is stabilised. Dr Cho has requested that an entire section be cordoned off for his care."

"Yeah, okay," Tony said, gasping as his HUD shifted to Steve's face, so bruised and swollen and bloody beneath his matted facial hair that he was barely recognisable. He was lying on the floor, propped up against Peter and holding Peter's hand against his chest with a white-knuckled grip. Peter looked up as Tony approached, whispering something into Steve's ear that caused him to try and push himself up to sit.

"No, no, no, honey, don't," Tony choked out. "Don't try to move just yet, okay?" He fell to his knees next to his boys as his helmet retracted, pulling Peter into a fierce hug.

"You okay, buddy?"

"Yeah, Dad, I'm fine," Peter murmured, muffled against Tony's neck. "Papa's the one who's hurt."

"All right." Tony pulled back, trying to look stern even though he knew he was utterly failing. "But don't you ever, _ever_ pull something like that again, you got that? Not _ever!_ Jesus Christ, Pete, we didn't know where in the hell you were!"

Peter huffed, the effect of his attempted glare lessened by the fact that his eyes were bruised and bloodshot and both of his cheeks were scratched and bleeding. He looked like he could sleep for a week, and most likely would he got cleaned up and ate something.

"That was kinda the point of it, Dad," he said quietly. "But anyway, I'm fine. Papa's the one who's hurt."

"Tony!" Steve suddenly said, struggling against his damaged abdomen to try and sit up. "Tony? Is it—are you—?"

"Honey, please!" Tony pleaded, his hand on Steve's shoulder, the only unblemished spot on his body that he could seem to find. "Don't try to move too much, okay? Helen and Bruce are on their way."

Slowly, Steve turned his head, his swollen and split lower lip trembling as his battered but still-gorgeous blue eyes attempted to focus in on Tony's face.

"Is he?" Steve whispered, so softly it was barely audible, his eyes flicking up towards Peter. "Are you sure he's—?"

"It's really him, Papa, I promise," Peter said softly. "HYDRA can't trick you anymore."

"It's—it's not—" Steve said, breaking off as he sucked in air, his lungs rattling just like they had after he was shot by the Winter Soldier, during the Malibu house bombing. "Tony, you—you're real? You're not just another illusion?"

Tony moved closer, keeping his eyes locked with Steve as he retracted his left arm gauntlet, showing Steve the wedding ring that he'd placed on Tony's finger over two years ago.

"I'm real, honey. See?" he said gently, the titanium band etched through with the faint red stripe catching on the single beam of sunlight coming through the hole in the roof. "Do you remember giving me this?"

Tears welled in Steve's beautiful eyes, and he raised his shaking left hand, bruised and bloodied across the knuckles and only partially covered by a torn fingerless glove.

"They took—HYDRA, they…" He paused to suck in air, his entire body shuddering and his teeth clenched. "Oh God, Tony they _took _mine! They took it from me, and I don't—I don't know where it is, and—"

"Shh, honey," Tony whispered, his own eyes so filled with tears he could barely see. He carefully cupped Steve's cheek, his heart giving a painful lurch when Steve leaned his head against it. "It's okay, I can make you a new one, yeah? I'll make you a thousand new rings if it means that you'll be back home with me. With _us."_

"Home," Steve said, attempting to nod as his hand came up to cover Tony's. "I want—I want to go home."

Tony glanced up at Peter, who gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head. Just as Tony had feared, Steve was too badly injured to just head back to the Tower.

"We'll go home just as soon as we get you fixed up again, okay?" Tony said. "Helen and Bruce are already on their way, so it won't be too long."

"Tony, two choppers just landed not too far from the main entrance," said Natasha. "Clint's heading out there now."

"One of them should be an FBI transport chopper," said George Stacy. "I've already made arrangements for a secured holding facility in Atlanta until we can figure out what to do with the prisoners."

"I know we'd all appreciate it if you could personally oversee the transfer and arraignment of these prisoners, Chief Stacy, until we know better who else we can trust," Sam said. "I can ask Natasha and Clint if they'll go with you for extra security if you'd like."

"I wouldn't hear of anything else, Mr Wilson," Stacy said proudly. "And I would appreciate the agents' help if they don't mind."

The conversation continued but Tony barely listened, too focused on his husband to pay more than the minimal amount of attention until Bruce and Helen arrived. Steve's eyes never left Tony's face as Helen conducted a quick initial assessment, starting two separate IV lines before giving Steve an injection of a pain medication that was just strong enough for Tony and Peter to be able to lift him onto the stretcher without hurting him too badly.

"Don't—!" Steve shrieked as Tony carefully placed him down, gripping Tony's hand. "Tony, don't leave me! Please, don't—!"

Tony shook his head, tears spilling down his cheeks as he leaned in to press his lips to Steve's, who's eyelids were barely still open. The pain medicine must've affected him more than Helen originally thought. "I'm not going anywhere. I _promise."_

"Okay," Steve whispered as his eyes fully closed. "Thank you."

_Oh God, honey, _Tony thought as Peter pushed the stretcher out of the building, loading it into the medical chopper. _You will never have to thank me for loving you._

_Not ever._

* * *

Tony was relieved to find that the hospital in Atlanta had already been security checked and cleared by the time they arrived, with Happy personally standing guard outside of the cordoned-off treatment room while Helen examined Steve. Steve was unconscious, the result of another dose of Helen's super-soldier pain medication that she gave him right before they landed. He had been trying to just bear through the pain, and even tried to convince Tony that he didn't need it, but thankfully Tony was able to get him to change his mind. He was in such bad shape that Helen couldn't even examine him while awake without risk of causing further injury, so she'd instead busied herself with tending to Peter's minor injuries during the flight, which turned out to be not much more than a few cuts and a lot of bruises, all of which had already started to heal.

Unfortunately, it was Steve's similar healing factor that was now working against him, causing many of the broken bones that he'd suffered during his torture to heal out of whack.

And so Tony sat, carefully clutching Steve's bruised left hand as Helen completed her examination, including blood tests and X-rays of pretty much every single bone in Steve's body. Bucky and Sam, accompanied by two of Happy's guards, had taken Peter to the hospital cafeteria to get something to eat and were then supposed to have him try and get some sleep, so Tony knew that he was in good hands.

"All right, Tony," Helen began, and Tony immediately cringed. He'd been around enough doctors and hospitals in his lifetime to be able to recognise that voice that doctors tended to use whenever they had to break some particularly bad news.

"How bad—" he started, slamming his jaw closed when Helen raised her hand.

"Just… let me finish, okay?"

At Tony's nod, Helen gave him a sympathetic smile. "There's nothing life-threatening, so you don't need to worry about that. Captain Rogers has several broken bones, including his left cheek and orbital bones, his left ulna, three ribs on his left side and two on his right, his left fibula, and most of the bones in his left foot. He also has two broken knuckles on his right hand, as well as a hairline fracture of the right radius that's already calloused over, so I'm guessing that was one of his earliest injuries."

Tony gulped, carefully cradling Steve's hand. "Okay, so… what do we do now?"

Helen sucked in a deep breath. "Well, his foot will require surgery. The metatarsals have been broken and rehealed so many times that they are now grossly out of alignment, rendering the foot pretty much useless. I've telephoned the top orthopaedic surgeon in New York, and he's already on his way here. We'll begin the surgery as soon as he arrives."

"And you think this guy will be able to fix it?" Tony asked. If Steve was never able to run again… well… Tony didn't want to have to think about that at the moment.

"With my help, I believe that he can," Helen said. "Dr Wright has pioneered many new techniques during his twenty years of practice, and is the only orthopaedic surgeon that I would personally trust with the captain."

"Well, that's all the confirmation that I need then," Tony said quickly. "Long as you're in there with him."

"I wouldn't dream of being anywhere else," replied Helen. "And while we're in the operating room, we will also repair Captain Rogers' cheekbone and realign one of the broken ribs on his left side, which is currently scraping against his lung."

Tony instinctively shuddered, leaning down to kiss Steve's hand just as he jerked awake.

"Tony!" he said, his blue eyes clouded with fear and pain as they studied Tony's face. "Are you—you're still real?"

Tony quickly glanced at Helen, who gave a small shake of her head. Mental injuries weren't her thing, they were Sam's, who no doubt was going to have his work cut out for him once they finally were able to get Steve home.

But first they had to take care of his physical injuries.

"Tony, what's—what's happening? Where's Peter?"

"Shh, honey," Tony murmured, stroking Steve's hair, matted and covered with grime. "Pete's with Bucky and Sam. They're taking care of him so Helen and I can take care of you, okay?"

Steve stared into Tony's eyes for several seconds before giving a brief nod. "Okay. Thank you."

"Steve, honey, please stop telling me thank you, yeah?" Tony said as he kissed Steve's knuckles. "I love you, all right? I love you so much, and you will never have to thank me for it. Not _ever."_

"Okay, but I'm still going to," Steve said, stifling a cough. "So you're just gonna have to get used to it."

"Captain Rogers," Helen said gently, placing a soft hand on Steve's shoulder. "Captain, you're going to need surgery on your foot. There's a surgeon already flying down here from New York, and—"

"I don't want to be put under," Steve cut in, squeezing Tony's hand so hard that he popped two of his knuckles. "Tony, _please,_ don't let them put me under! Please, I don't want to!"

"Honey, I don't know—"

"It's all right, Captain, we can do the surgery without a general anaesthetic," Helen said. "It might take all the lidocaine in the entire state of Georgia to keep you numbed up, but I'll make sure that Dr Wright is aware of the Captain's metabolic requirements."

"Thank you, Helen," Tony said, breathing out a sigh of relief. The last thing he wanted was to have to argue with his stubborn-as-hell husband over the best way to treat his multiple injuries.

"Tell you what," Helen continued. "I need to go and check on the setup for the operating room, so Tony, why don't you get Captain Rogers cleaned up while we're waiting?" She pointed to a small bathroom off of the examining room. "There's a basin and washcloths in there that you can use."

"Sure thing," Tony said, swallowing down his trepidation as Helen left the room. He'd given Peter sponge baths plenty of times when he was in the hospital, but he hadn't had half the bones in his body all busted up at the time.

"I'll be right back, honey, yeah?" Tony said, softly kissing Steve's cheek. "Think you'll feel a lot better once we wash all this grime off of ya."

"Tony, you don't have to—" Steve started.

"Stop," Tony said, brushing his fingers across Steve's lips. "Stop that right now. You stayed by my side in the hospital for weeks while I was out of commission, so now it's my turn. In sickness and in health, right?"

Steve nodded, his beautiful blue eyes glassy. "Till death do us part."

"Damn right."

Helen had cut that damned HYDRA uniform from Steve's body once they'd wheeled him into the exam room, so Steve was already naked underneath the layers of blankets piled on top of him. After making sure that the water was warm enough, Tony started with his feet and legs, washing the dirt and dried blood from Steve's skin while being very careful to not aggravate his severe injuries or the two IV lines running nourishing fluids into his veins. His left foot alone almost made Tony want to vomit, the limb so crushed and misshapen that he couldn't understand how Steve had even been able to stand, much less walk, as Peter had witnessed at the bunker.

And the whole time Steve's eyes never left Tony's face, as if he were afraid that if he looked away, Tony would disappear.

"I'm still here, honey," he said once he finished with Steve's abdomen and chest. His pale skin was almost covered with huge black and purple bruises, only increasing Tony's desire to personally strangle every single piece of HYDRA scum that had ever dared to lay a finger on his family.

"I'm not going anywhere."

"Thank you," Steve said, so sincerely that Tony couldn't even bring himself to chastise him.

"Not like I'm gonna turn down the opportunity to see you naked," Tony said with a wink, earning a weak half-smile from his husband as he got started on Steve's hair, saving his bruised and swollen face for last.

"So…" Tony said as he carefully cupped Steve's right cheek—the less beat-up side—as he regarded the overgrown whiskers covering the lower half of his husband's face. Steve had always hated having any facial hair; he'd always said that it made him itch something fierce.

"Would you want me to shave you, honey? Might help you feel a bit better."

Steve's throat bobbed as he swallowed. "Yes, please," he whispered. "It—it itches."

Rummaging around in the bathroom, Tony found a small can of shaving foam and a brand-new razor, no doubt courtesy of Happy since the razor was the exact same type that he used. Steve's beard was so long and matted that Tony had to use scissors first, clipping away the smelly, filthy whiskers before lathering Steve's cheeks and chin with the foam. It took Tony almost an hour to finish, as careful as he was to not press too hard on Steve's broken cheekbone. But once he was done and had rinsed the last remnants of the shaving cream away, Tony's breath caught in his throat as he looked down at his husband, his eyes still glued to Tony's face.

It was Steve. Bruised and battered, but it was still him.

Steve was _back._

There had been so many nights over the past month where Tony feared that he might never see Steve again, and now—now he was right there, right in front of him.

HYDRA had done everything in their power to try and break him, but Steve had refused to give in, just like he always had. Tony had never known Steve to back down from a fight, even when the odds were practically insurmountable against him.

"I love you," he said as he leaned forward and buried his nose into Steve's neck, almost too choked up to get the words out. Steve smelled like shaving cream and the hospital soap that he'd just used to wash him, but underneath it there was still that lingering scent of vanilla that Tony had always loved.

It was the smell of his beloved husband, and now he had him _back._

"I love you so damn much, and when I thought that—_God,_ Steve, I don't know what I would've done if—if you—"

"Tony," Steve whispered, his fingers slowly threading into Tony's hair as he turned his head, his lips brushing across Tony's cheek as Tony shifted so he could kiss him properly, nearly sobbing once they finally connected. Steve's lips were dry, chapped, and swollen, but it was still one of the best kisses that Tony had ever had in his life because Steve—his _husband_—was finally _back._

"I love you too," murmured Steve once they broke apart, their foreheads pressed together and tears streaking down both their cheeks. "And I can't wait to go home with you and our son."

"Soon as we get you fixed up, babe, okay?"

Steve gave a nod just as there was a knock at the door, with Tony quickly swiping his tears away.

"Come in?"

The door opened and Happy poked his head inside. "Ah, Dr Cho says that the surgeon has arrived and is already set up in the operating room, if Captain Rogers is ready."

Tony glanced down at Steve, who gave him a determined nod.

"Yeah, we're ready. Is Pete still asleep?"

Happy grimaced. "Actually, he's already scrubbed in and talking the surgeon's ear off, asking him all kinds of questions. He told me that he wanted to be in there with you guys, and I'm sorry, but I just couldn't say no to him."

Tony and Steve locked eyes, a slight smile playing on both their lips.

"Pete give you those puppy dog eyes of his there, Hap?" asked Tony.

"Ah, yeah," Happy admitted, his eyes downcast. "Yeah, he sure did."

"Well, then I guess we'd better get going. Let's get this over with."

Steve clung tightly to Tony's hand while Happy wheeled him down the hall to the operating room, with Peter giving Tony a sheepish look over his surgical mask once he got inside.

"Sorry, Dad, but I just—I just wanted to be here, and—"

"Nah, it's okay, buddy," Tony said. "I know Papa's happy you're here too."

As Helen wheeled Steve into position, Tony and Peter took their places at his sides, each holding onto one of his hands. The surgeon had the typical bedside manner of most of the surgeons that Tony had met, but absolutely lived up to Helen's recommendation, working quickly and effectively while answering almost all of Peter's never-ending questions.

And the whole time, Steve never let go of their hands, not even once. Even when the surgeon had to pause so more local anaesthetic could be delivered, Steve's grip on Tony's hand never faltered.

And once the surgery was over, and Peter had given Steve a complete play-by-play of his Decathlon competition while his cheekbone and ribs were put back into their proper places and his left foot was rebuilt using pins and plates and screws and placed inside the largest cast Tony had ever seen, and once Helen was satisfied with Steve's level of pain control and Tony had made his follow-up appointment with the surgeon's office in New York, the entire team boarded the Stark Industries jet and headed home, flanked by two Air Force F-22s.

And once they were back, safe and sound in their Tower penthouse, with Steve's healing foot carefully propped up on pillows on their bed and he and Peter cuddled up in his arms, Tony laid his head down against Steve's chest and closed his eyes, finally allowing his tense, exhausted body to relax for the first time in over a month.

Tony knew that it wasn't completely over yet. While several arrests had already been made in the couple of days since the battle against the Chitauri-enhanced Hammer suits and most of the remaining HYDRA agents were on the run, Tony knew that it was going to be awhile before things managed to get back to some semblance of normal. The fact that the Secretary of Agriculture was currently the acting President of the United States was just one example of how deeply HYDRA's roots had managed to take hold inside the U.S. government, with many of the other major world powers experiencing similar fallouts in their own governments once the news stories started coming out.

But in that moment, cuddled up next to his living, breathing husband, his strong arm heavy around Tony's waist and the sound of his heartbeat beneath his ear, Tony didn't really much care about the turmoil the rest of the country was in, because his was finally over.

Steve was _home._

Their family had won

* * *

_**Next week's chapter will conclude this story! Thank you to everyone reading!**_

_**As always, I can't wait to see what you think! Please don't hesitate to leave me a review! :)**_


	20. Chapter 20

_The suit of armour pulled back its fist before Steve could even react, connecting it with the left side of his face and knocking him to the floor, his head slamming hard against the concrete._

"_Stand down," the suit said, the sound of Tony's voice tearing Steve's heart to shreds. "Final warning."_

_Choking and sputtering, Steve spit out a mouthful of blood and shook his head. His entire body was screaming at him to stop, to give in, the pain so intense that he could barely breathe, but he knew he couldn't. He knew that if he did, if he laid down his shield and allowed HYDRA to win, that it would all be over. The armies of darkness would march across the face of the world yet again, and all hope would be lost._

_And there was no way he could allow that to happen. For as long as one man could still stand against evil, could still stand up for what was right, then there was no way the darkness could win._

_And there was no one else there. He had to be that man._

_Planting his palms on the floor, Steve sucked in as deep a breath as he could against the stabbing pain in his ribs, drew his feet underneath him, and slowly pushed himself up, turning to face the armoured suit, the suit that sounded so much like Tony, and raised his shield._

"_I can do this all day."_

Steve gasped as he jerked awake, chest heaving and covered in a cold sweat as his eyes flitted around the room, trying to get his bearings. His surroundings didn't look the HYDRA prison where he'd been kept, it looked more like—

_Home,_ he thought, his shoulders sagging in relief. He laid back against his pillows, trying to relax.

_I'm home now. I'm safe._

He was still finding it difficult to wrap his mind around it. Being stuck inside that HYDRA bunker with no windows and no concept of day or night, Steve hadn't realised just how much time had actually passed until Tony informed him that they had been looking for him for almost a month.

A _month._ And during that time Steve had missed not only Peter's championship Decathlon competition, but also him getting ready for his first big dance.

"It's all right, babe," Tony had told him after they'd crawled into bed the previous night. "There's going to be plenty of other competitions and dances that Pete'll go to that you'll be able to see."

And while Steve knew that Tony was right, at the same time he couldn't seem to shake the sense that time was starting to run out. Peter was already fifteen, actually almost sixteen, and Steve hadn't even gotten to meet him until he was eleven. He wanted to have as much time with Peter as he possibly could before he became an adult and left home.

"Are you all right, Captain Rogers?" JARVIS suddenly asked, quietly but still loud enough to cause Steve to jump. "Are you in need of any assistance?"

"No, JARVIS, I'm—I'm fine," Steve whispered. "Thank you."

"Very good, Captain."

Actually, it wasn't quite the truth, but Steve wasn't about to tell JARVIS that he'd just realised that he needed to pee. Nor was he about to wake Tony, who was sleeping soundly next to him on the bed, flat on his stomach with his face smashed into his pillow. Following the battle at the prison, Tony had been so concerned for Peter and Steve's injuries that he'd completely neglected to tell anyone about his own, which Steve had had the unfortunate opportunity to discover once they got home and Tony got undressed for bed. Steve had nearly choked when his eyes landed on the mass of deep blue and purple bruises that covered almost the entirety of Tony's upper back and shoulders, bruises caused by the grenade and missile hits that he'd taken while fighting against the Hammer suits.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Steve had asked, trying to keep his temper intact through the haze of his own pain and fatigue. "Tony, you know you can't always be forgetting to take care of yourself!"

"Yeah, and now is _not_ the goddamn time to be starting that argument again, especially when you can't even walk!" Tony snapped back. "Now, get into bed, soldier, and that's an order!"

Steve had huffed and glared at him, but dropped the subject anyway, allowing Tony to fluff up his pillows and make sure that his water bottles, books, and sketchbook were all within easy reach on the bedside table.

That had been two nights ago, and ever since then both Peter and Tony had been bending over backwards to take care of Steve, and spoiling him completely rotten in the process. Tony had even already made Steve a new wedding ring, spending several hours in the lab to make sure it was as identical as possible to the one HYDRA stole from him, which made him even more determined to not wake Tony from his sound sleep just because he needed to use the bathroom.

And since Steve absolutely despised the crutches that he had been forced to use in order to get around the penthouse, he decided to forgo them as well. They were noisy, and made his armpits sore, and there were hopefully enough handholds between the bed and the bathroom for him to avoid having to use them.

Gritting his teeth, Steve pushed himself up to a sitting position and slid his legs over the side of his bed, careful to not allow his casted left foot to bang against the floor. The cast was also driving him completely mad. It was so bulky and heavy and made the skin underneath it itch like hell that he'd been sorely tempted on multiple occasions to try and rip it right off of him, and likely would've already done so if Tony and Peter and the rest of the team hadn't been doing such a good job of distracting him. Sam especially seemed to understand Steve's need to "jump right back into the swing of things", and as such the two of them had been discussing the extent of the Avengers' involvement in the compiling of evidence against the numerous HYDRA agents found to be embedded inside the U.S. government and its corresponding law enforcement agencies. So far they had agreed that Nick Fury, Maria Hill, and George Stacy would take point in the tracking down of any rogue operatives, with the hope that it would help SHIELD to further distance itself from the HYDRA moles once embedded inside it and reestablish the agency in a more positive light, with the Avengers assisting with searches if it became necessary.

They had also held a press conference the day before, attended only by journalists hand-picked by Pepper, where Steve laid out his entire story in what Peter called PG-13 detail, starting with his arrest following he and Tony's anniversary dinner and ending when he was finally released from the Atlanta hospital to come home. Images that Tony recorded from his HUD along with several documents that Bruce had been able to capture from the prison's computer systems were also released to a few selected news stations, further corroborating the growing pile of evidence against not only many of the men and women holding high positions in the government and other agencies, but also various news outlets.

It was a start, at least. But Steve knew he wouldn't be able to truly rest until every last HYDRA agent had been flushed out from their mole tunnels and arrested.

But unfortunately, at the moment he still needed to figure out a way to get to the bathroom and back without causing a scene.

Slowly, Steve pushed himself up to his feet, using the headboard as leverage as he placed all of his weight on his right foot. The cast on his left foot was massive, weighing at least ten kilograms with how much hardware was poking out of it. The surgeon had explained that he'd been required to use several of what he called medical pins in order to hold Steve's bones in place while they healed, which were now sticking out of the bright blue plaster in such a way that it made Steve feel sick to his stomach to even look at it. And not to mention the constant prickly feeling he'd had in the foot ever since the surgery from the bones knitting themselves back together. Steve had always hated that tingly, pins-and-needles feeling.

Although apparently not enough to stop breaking his goddamn bones, as Tony would say.

Keeping his right hand flat against the bed, Steve released the headboard and began hopping towards the bathroom, stopping at the end of the bed to balance himself on the footboard. The bathroom was still about ten paces away with nothing more for him to grab onto, but once he was able to get to the doorway he would hopefully be okay.

However, for all of Steve's meticulous planning, he realised only three hops in that he'd neglected to take into account the soreness in his right hip caused by him trying to compensate for the extra weight on his left foot. He paused in the very centre of the room, already dripping with sweat as he rested just the tip of his left toes against the floor, trying to take just a touch of weight off his right leg, and not even a second later found himself flat on his face, completely stunned, with his entire left side screaming in protest.

"What the—?" Steve heard from the bed as he attempted to roll over, his damaged ribs making him feel every single centimetre of movement. He refused to look as Tony sat up and poked his head over the end of the bed, already bracing himself for the lecture he was about to get.

"Jesus Christ, Steve, what the hell are you doing?" Tony demanded as he knelt down next to him, bleary-eyed and disheveled. He slid his arms underneath Steve's shoulders, trying to hoist him back up. "You trying to give me a heart attack or something?"

Steve glowered as he looked away, too embarrassed to even meet Tony's eyes even as his entire left side was now throbbing with every beat of his pounding heart.

"I just—I just needed to pee."

"Okay. And you didn't wake me up… why, exactly?"

"I didn't want to. You were sleeping."

To his credit Tony did at least make an attempt to hide his eyeroll, although it was not entirely successful. "Ah huh. And how'd that turn out for ya there, hmm?"

"Tony—"

"No, don't you be 'Tony-ing' me right now," he snapped. "You know damn well that I'd much rather be woken up with a kiss and a soft, 'hey sweetheart, can you help me hop on over to the bathroom?' or something like that as opposed to you smacking your face into the floor 'cause you're too damn stubborn to admit that you need me to help you."

Steve shook his head, curling his shoulders in as Tony let out an exaggerated sigh, his fingers threading through Steve's hair.

"C'mon, honey, please?" he said as his lips brushed across Steve's temple. "I know you come from the time when men weren't supposed to ask for help with stuff like that, but I thought you knew better than that by now. I'm your husband, damnit. It's not like I haven't seen it before."

That at least drew a small smile from Steve, and he turned, finally meeting Tony's worried eyes.

"I know, and I'm sorry. You just—you've been doing so much for me already and I know it's been wearing you out because you're trying to heal too, and I'm just so ready to get his stupid thing off of me that I thought—"

"Honey, your appointment with the surgeon's office is in a week," Tony said, just a hair shy of patronising. "That's a total of ten days with the cast, where most people would have it on for a minimum of three months, probably more. I know it's gotta be hard, but you've just got to be patient or else you'll just end up setting yourself back again." Tony let out a short chuckle. "Listen to me, I'm starting to sound like Sam."

"Well, I won't tell him if you don't." Steve tipped his head back against Tony's shoulder, beyond grateful that it didn't seem like he'd aggravated his still-healing ribs. He had gotten so used to his body's enhanced healing factor that having to wait for something to heal had hit him harder than he'd expected. Steve had never enjoyed waiting for anything, and that didn't combine well with his usual tendency to push himself.

"So, you think you're feeling up to moving again?" Tony asked after a couple of minutes. He was still combing his fingers through Steve's hair, which felt so incredibly good that Steve had almost managed to forget the very reason why they were now sitting in the middle of their bedroom floor.

"If I have to," Steve murmured, moaning when Tony dug the pads of his fingers into his scalp. His eyes fluttered closed as he relaxed against Tony, trying to focus only on the feel of his husband's fingertips instead of the pulsating pain in his foot and side.

"Mmm. You had another nightmare," Tony said. "Didn't you."

It was a statement instead of a question, which only served to reinforce how well Tony could read Steve. He supposed he shouldn't've been surprised that his nightmares had flared up again now that he was home, but that didn't mean he wasn't trying to ignore them.

"Yeah."

"Wanna talk about it?"

"No, not right now. I still have to pee."

He felt Tony's lips press against his forehead. "All right, then tell you what. If you let me help you up so you can take care of what you need to take care of, I'll rub your head some more once we get back into bed. Sound good?"

"Yes, but I'm not exactly sure what you're getting out of this," Steve protested, rather weakly since Tony's magical fingers were still busy rubbing his scalp.

Tony's hands immediately froze in place. "Steve," he said, and Steve's heart skittered at the catch in his voice. "Honey, you were gone for a _month_, and I didn't know where the hell you were or if I'd ever see you again. Just getting to sleep next to you again has been a gift."

That prompted Steve to lift his head, and he cupped Tony's cheek in his palm, brushing his thumb across his cheekbone. "I'm sorry, sweetheart," he whispered. "I'm so sorry. For everything."

"Nope, we're not going there," Tony said, covering Steve's lips with his fingers. "You know you don't have to be sorry. Well, maybe for falling flat on your face 'cause you were too stubborn to wake me up, but… not for the rest of it. You were a prisoner of war, honey, and I'm just relieved that Pete was able to find you."

Steve curled his fingers around Tony's hand and brought it to his lips, kissing his knuckles.

"Me too."

"Okay, so then—"

"But I don't want to be leaning on you," Steve added. "You've got all those bruises all over your back and I'm not gonna be making 'em worse by pressing on 'em."

Tony gave an exaggerated sigh. "Then what do you suggest, _Captain?"_

Grudgingly, Steve asked Tony to bring over his crutches, which once they were in hand and he was able to take care of business without any further issues, he realised how silly he had been to ignore them in the first place.

"Now, see?" Tony murmured once they were back in bed, curled up together with Steve's head tucked against Tony's chest. "That didn't end up being too horrible, did it?"

Steve closed his eyes, grudgingly shaking his head.

"No, I guess not."

"Good. Now, tell me what else you'd like."

"Mmm," Steve moaned as Tony hit a particularly sensitive spot on the back of his head, trying to not think of what he'd like and managing to think of nothing else. He squirmed as he felt Tony grin against his forehead before pressing his lips there, lingering just a bit longer than he expected.

"You sure you don't need anything else, honey?" Tony asked, now pressing soft kisses all along Steve's temple and cheek. "Maybe I can help take your mind off the pain a bit, hmm?"

"Tony," Steve said as he tilted his head up to meet Tony's lips, his fingers threading through Tony's hair to hold him in place as Tony let out a soft whimper. As a matter of fact, a big part of the reason for Steve's impatience with his healing injuries was because he wanted Tony so badly that at times he could barely concentrate on anything else, but absolutely did not feel comfortable with Tony doing all the work since he was hurt as well.

"Your thoughts aren't as quiet as you think, babe," Tony said once they broke for air, still pressing soft kisses along Steve's jawline as his fingertips trailed across Steve's chest, brushing lightly across both his nipples. He then tapped Steve on the shoulder, indicating for him to roll onto his back. "Let me make you feel good, yeah?"

"Oh God, Tony," Steve groaned, his breath hitching when Tony's hand slid down his sternum to his abdomen, tracing along the waistband of his pyjama pants. "You don't—you don't have to."

"Oh, but I want to," Tony replied, shooting him a rather cheeky grin. "Besides, aren't orgasms one of nature's best pain relievers?"

Steve's reply got caught in his throat as Tony's hand slipped beneath the elastic of his pants, his nimble fingers curling around his already aching erection as he caught Steve's lips again, his tongue slipping into Steve's mouth to taste him. Sensation flooded Steve's body like a wave as he met Tony's tongue with his own, chasing away the throbbing, fiery pain, and he wrapped his arms around Tony's middle, shifting him so he was straddling Steve's waist.

"I have—I have heard that before," Steve gasped as he slipped his hands underneath Tony's sleep pants, cupping his glorious round ass as his hips rolled up to meet Tony's. "God, sweetheart, I have _missed _you!"

"Steve… baby," Tony whispered as he ground his hips down, moaning at the delicious friction and pulling another moan from Steve's throat. "Oh hell, honey, it's been way too long!"

"Tony!" Steve cried as Tony slid his hand between their bodies, curling his calloused fingers around both their erections and stroking them together, pleasure pooling deep in his gut when Tony let out another loud moan. "Sweetheart, I can't—I—oh God, _please _don't stop!"

"God, baby, you're just so fucking gorgeous!" Tony rasped, his strokes already losing their rhythm. "I wanna see you let go for me!"

They came within seconds of each other, their foreheads pressed together and panting shuddering breaths of air against each other's lips. As soon as Steve felt able to move again he pulled Tony down, ignoring the sticky mess on his belly as he tucked his beloved fella's head underneath his chin, careful to avoid pressing on the deep bruises littering the width of his upper back. The hot, throbbing aches in his foot and side were now gone, replaced by a wonderful warm, buzzing feeling.

"Thank you, sweetheart," Steve mumbled after a few minutes had passed, barely able to move his jaw enough to speak. He realised a few heartbeats later later that he needn't have bothered as Tony was already asleep, his hand cupping Steve's shoulder and a light smile on his full lips. Carefully, Steve shimmed down on the bed just enough to grab onto the blankets, pulling them up over them before pressing a final kiss to Tony's forehead and closing his eyes.

And when they woke up the next morning, sticky and sweaty and still curled up together, Steve found that aside from some slight residual soreness, most of his pain was gone.

Nature's best pain reliever, indeed.

* * *

"So you seriously can't tell us anything more about what happened?" Ned asked Peter through a mouthful of hamburger. "I mean, if it was big enough to take down most of the government then you have to know _something, _don't you?"

Peter sighed as he shoved a french fry into his mouth, shooting Gwen a grateful glance when he felt her hand squeeze his knee under the table. Gwen of course knew pretty much everything that had gone down in that Georgia prison, but so far Dad, Papa, and Pepper had been able to frame the footage they'd shared with the news stations by saying that Peter had been taken from school during the dance by HYDRA, with their intent being to use him as leverage in order to get Papa to cooperate with their sadistic plans. Peter had admittedly been pretty upset when Dad and Papa had sat him down to explain why they were going to skew the news stories, but unfortunately since he had chosen to disobey them again by not sharing what he had found with Dad, they told him that he had no say in the matter. He wasn't eighteen yet, so that meant their decisions were still law.

And while Peter could understand why his dads weren't ready for the world to be aware of the existence of his abilities quite yet—especially since he wasn't really ready either—it still didn't seem fair that he couldn't tell anyone that _he'd _been the one who had discovered the location of the prison, which no doubt ended up saving not only Papa's life, but both of the Maximoffs as well.

Papa had concluded their discussion by saying that Peter still had a lot to learn about working as part of a team, but that since he had obviously been able to handle himself pretty well during the actual fighting, he and Dad were going to allow him to start training again with the team once Papa's doctor gave him the okay to do so.

Which, while it wasn't exactly what Peter wanted, it was at least better than nothing.

"I've told you, Ned," he said quietly. "My dads don't want me talking about it."

"Aww, but you were there!" Ned exclaimed. "And I know the news isn't telling us everything either. I mean, most of the government's in jail now _and _Hammer Industries is being sold off, so what went on down there had to have been huge!"

"Ned, why don't you back off a bit, okay?" Gwen said, politely but firmly. "From what my dad told me that place where they were keeping Captain Rogers was pretty awful, and I'm sure Peter doesn't really want to have to think about it more than he has to."

"Oh, well, that's true," Ned said, giving Peter a rather sheepish nod. "I guess being the son of two superheroes can be pretty rough sometimes, huh?"

Peter raised his eyebrows as he took a sip of his milk, suppressing a shudder at the memory of seeing Dad and Papa's crumbling gravestones and watching Gwen fall to her death, the illusions Wanda had forced him to see while under HYDRA's influence. He had told Uncle Sam about them during one of their recent sessions but had so far kept them from his dads, not wanting their overprotectiveness to get any worse.

Besides, with Papa's foot still in a cast he was already cranky enough from his lack of mobility, and Peter didn't feel like adding even more ammunition to it.

"Yeah, sometimes," Peter agreed. "But the rest of the time it's still pretty cool."

Clearing her throat, Gwen thankfully changed the subject to their summer break, asking Ned about his upcoming yearly trip to Hawaii to visit his grandparents. It was the second-to-last day of school, and Peter only had one more final exam to take before he could pretty much coast through the rest of his classes.

The fact that he didn't have to worry about not being able to see Gwen much over the summer was pretty awesome too. Since she had been offered the summer internship position at Stark Industries, Peter was planning on meeting her in the SI cafeteria every day for lunch during the weeks when they weren't up at the Compound, and they had already planned a movie date for the following weekend, accompanied by Uncle Clint and Auntie Nat.

And then at the end of July was their three-week trip to Ireland, where Dad was planning to surprise Papa with a fully-furnished Irish cottage right on the outskirts of the town were Papa's parents grew up, with a quick two-day trip to Dublin thrown in for Peter's sixteenth birthday. Dad had made all the arrangements during the time that Papa was missing, his way of trying to stay optimistic about Papa's safe return, and just the previous night he had shown Peter pictures that the contractor had sent him of the completed house, including the memorial he'd ordered that commemorated Papa's father's sacrifice on the battlefields of World War I, where he was killed fighting for his adopted country. Dad had also made a sizeable donation in Papa's ma's name to one of the nearby hospital's neonatal intensive care units. The NICU at Mount Sinai hospital in New York where Peter spent the first six weeks of his life already sported a large commemorative plaque in Dad's name since he donated money and new equipment there every year, so Dad thought it was best for Papa's ma to be remembered in the Irish hospital since she had worked as a nurse.

And if the photos were able to do it all justice, Peter knew that Papa was going to be absolutely floored once he saw everything.

Which also meant that Peter absolutely could _not _forget to pack his earplugs. Thankfully Dad had thought ahead enough to have his bedroom built on the opposite end of the hall from the master, but it still didn't hurt to be prepared.

"So, when does your papa get his new cast off?" Gwen asked as they walked down the hall to History after lunch, Ned having made a beeline for Betty's locker as soon as the bell rang.

"Hopefully at his next appointment, Dad's taking him back next Thursday morning," answered Peter. "He was pretty upset that he needed the second one."

"Yeah, I bet," Gwen said. "Is he just not healing as fast as he used to or something?"

Peter shook his head, grimacing as he remembered how grumpy Papa had been the night before. "No, I think it's more that the doctor's just being extra careful. I'm sure he doesn't want to be remembered as the guy who botched Captain America's broken foot after Dr Cho personally asked him to fix it. And I also think that Papa didn't really want to admit how messed up his foot was in the first place. I mean, I saw all of the X-rays and I saw how awful it looked before the surgery started, and I still can't believe he could even stand on it when I first found him in that prison, much less take steps with it."

Gwen gave a nod as she walked past their History classroom, leaning against the row of lockers next to it. "And you? You're doing okay?" she asked quietly. "I know you weren't as hurt as Captain Rogers, but my dad told me that you were still pretty beat up."

"Nah, I'm fine," Peter said automatically, choosing to ignore the fact that he sounded just like his dad. "Dr Cho took care of me on the chopper flight to Atlanta, so… I'm good."

"Well, if you're sure," Gwen said, her tone suggesting that she thought otherwise. "But don't forget that I'm here if you want to talk about anything. And I'm not trying to be pushy, I just—"

"Gwen, I know, and I really appreciate it, okay," Peter said. "I'm just—I guess when I'm with you I'd just like to be more… normal. Just be myself, without all the superhero stuff. Does that make any sense?" He didn't add that the vision of Gwen crashing to the ground had rattled him a lot more than he wanted to admit, and that he had already thought way too much about the possibility of some future bad guy intentionally targeting her just for being his girl. Obie had targeted Papa for the exact same thing, so Peter knew he wasn't just being paranoid.

"Yeah, it makes sense," she said. "Just as long as you don't think that you can't talk to me about it."

Peter smiled, reaching to tuck a stray hair behind her ear and wishing that he could kiss her instead. Their hurried first kiss right before he'd escaped out through the boys' room window had been incredible, better than he'd ever imagined it would be, and he was very much looking forward to some more practise.

"I know," he said softly. "And thank you for understanding."

The bell rang then, causing Peter to jump as it was right above their heads. He managed to sneak into the classroom and slide into his seat just before the teacher turned around, and if he had to guess, also managed to completely ace his final exam, meaning he would finish another school year with straight-A's.

Dad and Papa would be proud.

To Peter's surprise, it was Uncle Sam and Auntie Nat waiting for him once school was over instead of his dads. Peter's heart leapt into his throat at the sight of them, partially because he still wasn't used to seeing Auntie Nat with her platinum blonde hair.

"Everything's fine with your dads, милая ошибка," Auntie Nat said as soon as Peter opened the door. "No need to worry."

"Well, that's good," Peter said, breathing out a small sigh of relief. "But why—?"

"Thor showed up at the Tower about an hour ago with a weird haircut," Uncle Sam cut in, sounding grim. "He's also missing an eye, so your dad's already started on a new one while Cap debriefs him."

There was a short pause while Peter tried to figure out if Uncle Sam was joking or not, as his sense of humour tended towards the dry, sarcastic side. But several heartbeats later when he hadn't quirked his eyebrow or done anything else to indicate that he was kidding, Peter let out a gasp.

"Wait, what?" he exclaimed, giving his head a quick shake. "Uncle Thor lost an eye? What the hell happened to him, was it Loki?"

"Apparently not this time," said Auntie Nat. "We didn't get all the details 'cause we had to leave, but Thor mentioned something about an older sister than he'd never met, the goddess of death, apparently, who'd been imprisoned or something."

"A sister? But there's nothing in Norse mythology about Thor having a sister?" Peter said.

"Well, then I guess the myths are a bit different from the reality," said Uncle Sam. "And I'm sure Thor will be able to tell you all about it once we get back."

Peter leaned back against his seat, his mind already spinning.

"Yeah, okay."

They found everyone gathered in Dad's lab when they got back to the Tower, with Thor sitting on one end of the couch surrounded by peanut butter sandwiches and lemonade and Dad in the centre surrounded by blue holographic eyeballs. Uncle Thor looked up as Peter entered, nearly knocking his tray of food to the floor in his hurry to get to his feet.

"Young Starkson!" Thor exclaimed as he pulled Peter into such a tight hug that Peter's back cracked. "It is so, so good to see you again!"

"Hey, Uncle Thor," Peter said. He rolled his shoulders as Uncle Thor released him, trying not to stare too long at the eyepatch covering his left eye. "I heard that you had some trouble with your sister?"

Uncle Thor's face immediately fell, and Peter winced, glancing towards Papa who was sitting on the opposite end of the couch.

"Uhh, did I say something wrong?"

"It's kind of a long story, little guy, and I'm not sure Thor's up to telling it again just now," Papa said gently as Peter sat down next to him. He curled an arm around Peter's shoulders, kissing the top of his head. "Just suffice it to say that he's going to be staying here on Earth for the foreseeable future."

"Oh! Are you gonna be staying here with us again?" asked Peter.

Uncle Thor shook his head, sniffing as he took a huge bite of one of his sandwiches. "No, no, Young Starkson, although I do promise to visit from time to time. My people and I have decided to settle in an area of your planet that you call Norway."

"Oh," Peter said. "Well, I guess that makes sense since you guys are Norse gods and all. But what's going on? What happened?"

"Peter, another time, okay?" Papa said, giving Peter's hair a ruffle. "In fact, why don't you come and help me get dinner started while Dad works on Uncle Thor's new eye, okay?"

"That's a good idea, Pete," Dad said. "I'm sure you're hungry anyway, aren't ya?"

"Um… yeah. Okay."

While Papa had indeed been upset about having to get another cast on his foot, the surgeon had at least been able to take out most of the metal pins from his healing bones, which meant that Papa could now bear some weight on his left leg as long as he didn't do it too often. He of course had been pushing the "not too often" part ever since he'd gotten home and kept refusing to use his cane most of the time, but as Dad had pointed out, he wouldn't be Papa without trying to push against his limits.

"So, can you tell me what happened to Uncle Thor?" Peter asked once they were settled in the kitchen, kneading homemade pizza dough. "I've never seen him this twitchy before."

Papa gave a sigh, squeezing his hunk of dough so hard that it squirted through his fingers. "There was initially a problem with Loki, which is why Uncle Thor had to leave here at first. Through a weird turn of events, he ended up discovering that Loki had put their father into exile so he could take over the throne of Asgard. Thor managed to find him again but Odin was very sick by the time he did, and apparently when Odin passed away the magic that had contained Thor's evil older sister in her prison also went away, so she was able to escape and return to Asgard."

"Oof," Peter said. "And she was the goddess of death?"

"Yes. Her name was Hela," said Papa. Finished with his dough, he handed Peter a block of mozzarella cheese, taking the cheddar for himself. "And she caused the deaths of a lot of people and managed to destroy Thor's hammer before Thor and Loki were able to stop her."

"Oh my God, that sounds awful!" Peter exclaimed. "And I thought it was impossible to destroy Mjolnir!" Peter couldn't even imagine Uncle Thor without his ubiquitous hammer; it would be like Papa losing his shield or Dad trying to fight without his armour.

"Yes, well, so did Thor, and from what he's been telling us, it was all pretty awful," Papa agreed. "But the worst part was that Hela was so powerful that he and Loki ended up having to destroy Asgard in order to defeat her."

Peter's head whipped up mid-shred, his eyes widening in shock.

"_What?_ You mean Asgard is gone? Like, _gone?"_

"Yes," Papa said grimly. He let out a heavy sigh, leaning against the counter. "Kinda puts things into perspective a bit, doesn't it?"

"No, not if you mean what I think you mean," Peter argued. "HYDRA could've ended up destroying Earth too, Papa, if we hadn't stopped them, and I'm sure Uncle Thor would've been able to handle his psychopath sister a lot better if he'd known that she existed before it was too late, so I don't think that it does any good to compare them. They were both evil, and they both caused a lot of people to lose their lives, but now they're both gone."

Papa gave a nod, smiling softly. "You're right, little guy," he said, clapping a hand on Peter's shoulder. "You're pretty smart, you know that?"

"Eh, that's what people tell me," Peter said with a not-quite-modest shrug. "But I did ace my History final today, so…"

"Yes, I'm sure you did." Papa finished spreading the shredded cheese across the first pizza, popping a few pieces into his mouth. "Now, let's get these pizzas into the ovens before Thor ends up eating our entire supply of peanut butter, okay?"

"Uh huh."

They ended up making a total of ten pizzas, six of which were eaten by Peter, Papa, and Uncle Thor. Once everyone was done eating Peter helped Dad finish his work on Uncle Thor's new eye while Papa gave him a condensed version of the HYDRA prison battle, including a rundown of the upcoming criminal trials that were scheduled to begin by the end of the summer. Uncle Thor was also very interested to learn more about Wanda and Pietro Maximoff, who were spending the summer with Uncle Clint's sister-in-law and her family on their farm in rural Indiana. Once they all had arrived back in New York, Wanda confessed that she and Pietro had been held at the HYDRA prison for almost three years, so Papa worked it out with Director Fury that they would spend the summer quietly recuperating, then return to live at the Compound right before the school year started so they could both attend a local public school.

"You'll always have a place here with us, Thor," Papa said. "But we definitely understand that you need to be with your own people."

"For a time there will be a need," Uncle Thor replied. "My people are strong, but losing one's home is enough to challenge the strength of even my fellow Asgardians, I'm afraid. However, as I am still not convinced it is in my people's best interests for me to be their ruler, I do believe that I will be back. I just do not yet know when that might be."

"Well, I'm just sorry that we didn't know what was going on," added Papa. "Maybe we could've helped?"

"No, it is highly unlikely that any of you humans would have survived an encounter with Hela," said Uncle Thor. "That was in fact the main reason for my silence." He picked up his refilled glass of lemonade glass, downing its contents in three large gulps before getting to his feet. "And with that, I am afraid that I must be off. Without my hammer I am travelling a bit slower than usual, and if I leave Loki and Valkyrie alone together for too long I run the risk of no longer having a brother by the time I return."

"Yeah, I suppose the last thing that we need right now is for Loki to throw another tantrum," Dad said, handing Uncle Thor his newly built eye. "Try that on for size."

Peter looked away while Uncle Thor popped it in. He'd been able to handle watching Papa's foot surgery with no problems, but for some reason watching someone pop in an artificial eye tested the limits of his squeamishness, especially right after he'd just eaten three halves of a pizza.

"Yes, I believe it works, Stark," Thor said after a moment or two, blinking rapidly. "And I thank you."

"Eh, no problem," said Dad. "Let me know if something goes wrong and I'll tweak it for ya."

"I will indeed." Uncle Thor gave a nod, looking around at the various team members all standing around him. "My friends, until we meet again, I bid you all farewell."

And with that, Uncle Thor looked up towards the ceiling, and was instantly caught in a beam of bright white light that looked almost exactly like a transporter beam straight out of Star Trek, disappearing three seconds later.

"Well," Uncle Sam said after a short pause. "Never a dull moment, huh?"

Dad immediately rolled his eyes, prompting Papa to chuckle.

"I guess we're just good at keeping you on your toes, right Sam?" Papa said. "Don't want anyone getting bored, do we?"

"Ah hell," grumbled Uncle Sam. "After that mess down in Georgia I think we've all earned the right to some boredom. Haven't we?"

"We could all head out to Indiana for awhile," said Uncle Clint from his perch near the window. "I'm sure my sister-in-law wouldn't mind having some extra farm hands for a few days. You'd probably have to sleep in the barn though, the house isn't really all that big."

Uncle Sam's eyebrows shot up. "Or on second thought, maybe I just need to go for a run."

"Yeah, and in another week I'll finally be able to join you again," Papa said eagerly.

"Probably," Dad corrected. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves, honey, yeah?"

"Are you kidding? I'm looking forward to it!" said Uncle Sam. "It might be the only time I can honestly say that I beat Captain America."

"Oh, I'd be careful about that if I were you, Falcon," Papa warned. "Don't go getting your hopes up too high."

"Um, I'm pretty sure he just did, Cap," Uncle Clint said with a rather wicked grin. "This is gonna be fun."

"Yeah," said Auntie Nat. "And on that note, I'm heading back downstairs to dye my hair. See ya later, boys."

"Oh thank _God," _said Uncle Clint as he hurried to catch up with her. "You know I like the red so much better!"

"Yeah, and I think I'm gonna head on out too," said Uncle Sam. He nudged Peter with his elbow. "Bucky and I are planning to watch the baseball game tonight if you wanna come down."

"Oh, yeah! That sounds fun, thanks!" Peter hardly ever turned down an opportunity to hang out with Uncle Sam and Uncle Bucky since they were so much fun to be around. The team liked to joke that Dad and Papa often bickered like an old married couple—which was actually the truth—but to Peter Uncle Sam and Uncle Bucky were even funnier. Trading insults, bantering about their preferred sports teams, and in general acting like two grumpy old men most of the time usually had Peter laughing so hard that his stomach hurt.

Plus, aside from Uncle Thor, Uncle Bucky was Peter's favourite person to arm-wrestle with.

"Well, good. I'll make sure to have plenty of snacks," said Uncle Sam. He clapped Papa on the shoulder, nodding at Dad. "See you guys later."

"Um, it is okay if I watch the game with them, isn't it?" Peter asked gingerly once Uncle Sam was out of earshot. "I don't have any homework since tomorrow's the last day of school."

"Sure, little guy, it's okay," Papa said, a sort of sad smile on his face. "Long as you're back up here before bedtime, okay?"

"Uh huh. Thanks."

Dad came up to Papa then, slipping his hand into the crook of Papa's elbow. "C'mon, honey, you've been on your feet long enough."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Papa said with a sigh. Peter watched as Dad led Papa towards the living room, setting him up on the couch with his casted foot propped up on a pillow, his sketchbook and the TV remote both within easy reach. A lump rose in Peter's throat as Papa watched Dad head back to his lab to finish his work on the upgraded defence drones, and he glanced at the clock, noting that he had about an hour before the baseball game was due to start.

"Hey, Papa?" he said as he sat down next to the coffee table. "Would you wanna play a game of chess?"

The look of surprised delight on Papa's face was almost enough to bring tears to Peter's eyes.

"I would love to."

Peter grinned, reaching for the chessboard under the table. "Do you remember the first time we ever played?"

"Of course I do. It was when you taught me how," Papa answered, his blue eyes twinkling as he studied the board, finally moving a pawn. He reached across to ruffle Peter's hair. "You've grown a bit since then, don't you think?"

"Yeah, a bit," Peter said with a wink. He had actually grown a lot since that first chess game they had played in the base hospital in Afghanistan where he and Dad were recovering, but aside from the cast on his foot and the ring on his finger, Papa hadn't hardly changed at all.

_He's happier now, though, _Peter thought. _All three of us are._

His grin grew wider as he took one of Papa's knights. "But I think I can still beat you in chess."

"Oh, you think so?" said Papa. "Is that a threat or a promise?"

Peter laughed, relieved when Papa laughed too. "Well, I guess we'll find out, won't we?"

* * *

_I could definitely get used to this,_ Tony thought as he tipped his head back against Steve's shoulder, briefly closing his eyes. He, Steve, and Peter were curled up on the couch in the living room of their Irish cottage, watching the latest Star Wars movie on the big-screen TV. It had been a pretty busy day, beginning with yet another flat tire while driving along the bumpy Irish roads—and what _was_ it about Ireland and flat tires, anyway? With no spare tire available and the auto club saying it would be a three-hour wait, Steve had suggested that they hike a bit along the country road they'd been driving on, which ended up leading them to an absolutely beautiful waterfall that Steve identified as the famous Maghera Falls, a place his ma had told him about as a child. Peter of course had been completely fascinated by it, and insisted on not only exploring the falls and the surrounding beach area but also the nearby caves. Steve and Peter ended up taking so many pictures that they both maxed out the memory on their phones, something Tony hadn't thought was possible.

All of which meant that by the time they finally got back to the repaired car, it was not only almost dark outside, but none of them had eaten anything since breakfast. After stopping to buy just enough food to tide Peter and Steve over until they could get home, Steve had insisted that Tony and Peter rest while he made them a dinner big enough for the entire team, complete with appetisers and dessert.

"Um, I think he's nodding off again, sweetheart," Steve whispered into Tony's ear. He jerked his head in Peter's direction, forcing Tony to hide his chuckle as he watched Peter's curly head nearly flop down into his huge bowl of popcorn and then snap right back up again, his eyes blinking rapidly behind his glasses.

"Yeah, I think you're right," Tony whispered once Peter had done it again two more times. "You wore the kid out, honey."

"Yeah, I guess I did. It'll hopefully mean that he'll sleep good though," Steve added, his warm breath on Tony's ear causing him to shiver. "Do you think we should suggest that he head to bed now?"

"You sure it's not just because you want his popcorn?" Tony said with a rather cheeky grin. His heart gave a flutter as Steve pressed his lips to Tony's neck, just below his ear.

"It's not popcorn that I want at the moment."

"Oh, really?" Tony asked, squirming slightly. "Care to enlighten me, then?"

Steve smiled against Tony's neck, sending a bolt of pleasure down Tony's spine. "You're the genius, sweetheart. I'm sure you can figure it out."

_Oh yeah, I'm pretty sure that I can._

"Hey, Pete?" Tony said, gently shaking his son's shoulder. "Buddy, you keep trying to faceplant into your popcorn, so why don't you head on to bed, yeah?"

"Huh?" Peter said as his head snapped up again, blinking in confusion. "Oh, yeah. I guess I am kinda tired."

"Seems like you're a bit more than 'kinda' tired," Steve said as he took Peter's popcorn bowl. "C'mon, little guy. Time for bed."

The fact that Peter didn't even attempt to argue only proved how tired he was, and once Tony and Steve managed to cajole him through getting into his pyjamas and brushing his teeth, they tucked him into his bed, taking turns kissing him goodnight.

"Night, bud," Tony whispered as he smoothed Peter's hair off his forehead. "See ya in the morning."

Peter was out before he could even respond.

As soon as they stepped out of Peter's room Steve took Tony's hand, leading him down the hall to their bedroom. Tony had designed the spacious room like a loft, with a large sitting area furnished with the same kind of comfy, squashy furniture they had in their Tower penthouse and Compound apartment. There was also a section over by the corner windows set up like a small art studio for Steve, with the bed and bedside tables situated about two-thirds of a level above, up a small flight of stairs and overlooking the rest of the room.

It was absolutely beautiful, and Tony loved it so much that even though they still had a few more days before they were due to head back to New York, he was already looking forward to their next trip so they could stay there again.

But apparently Steve had made some pretty definite plans for the room that night, as Tony discovered as soon as they set foot inside. Flickering candles sat on top of the dresser and both of the bedside tables, throwing shadows onto the walls and giving off a soft, glowing light that highlighted the lighter blond strands of Steve's hair. The bed was already turned down, with a large bottle of what looked like scented massage oil sitting next to their smaller bottle of lube on Steve's bedside table.

"What's all this?" Tony asked as Steve's left arm slipped around his waist, pulling him close as he tucked Tony's left hand against his chest.

"Just some small plans that I made," Steve murmured, winking as he kissed the tip of Tony's nose. He slipped his phone from his pocket and turned on the music player, with Tony letting out a wide grin as the crooning voice of John Legend filled the room.

"You are such a sap, honey," Tony said as he curled his fingers around Steve's bicep and tipped his forehead against his shoulder. He breathed in deeply, reveling in his husband's glorious ivory-soap-and-vanilla scent as they swayed gently to the music. "You know that, right?"

"Yeah, I know," Steve said softly. "But you love me anyway."

A sudden knot rose in Tony's throat, and he gave a slight cough, trying to clear it. If Steve only knew a fraction of how worried he had been, how scared he'd been that he might never see him again…

It was too much for Tony to even contemplate. Even now, wrapped tightly in his husband's arms with Steve's strong heartbeat beneath his ear, there was a tiny part of him that still believed that all of this was just one big, elaborate dream, and that someday he would simply wake up and it would all be gone. That the last four-plus years since Steve found he and Peter near death in the middle of the Afghanistan desert had all been nothing more than something he had made up in his overactive imagination.

"Oh Christ, Steve, you know that I do," he said instead, burrowing even further into Steve's embrace. "But you also know that you don't have to go through the whole literal song and dance to show me, right?"

"Yeah, I know," answered Steve, his lips brushing along Tony's temple. "But that doesn't mean I'm not going to anyway."

Before Tony could say anything else, Steve slipped his fingers under his chin, tilting his head up and capturing his lips. Tony wound his arms around Steve's neck as his tongue swiped across Tony's bottom lip, asking for permission like the gentleman he always was. He whimpered as Steve's tongue plundered his mouth, teasing and tasting as one hand slipped underneath Tony's t-shirt, his blunt fingernails scraping lightly up his back.

"_Steve,"_ Tony whispered as Steve broke away from his mouth to trail kisses down his jaw to his neck, sucking gently on his pulse point. "Honey, you're—I need—"

"I'm gonna spoil you tonight, sweetheart," Steve murmured as he kissed across Tony's neck and back up to his ear. "You've taken such good care of me lately and spoiled me with this wonderful vacation, it's time for me to take care of you now."

And with that Steve slid his beautifully large hands underneath Tony's ass and hoisted him into his arms, carrying him up the stairs to their bed and laying him down on the lightly perfumed sheets. He crawled up next to him, hovering over him as he stripped Tony's clothes off, his eyes flicking down to Tony's already straining erection before leaning down to kiss him.

"Will you turn over for me?" he asked against Tony's lips. "I thought I'd start you off with a backrub."

"Okay, but take off your clothes for me first, yeah?" Tony asked. He tugged rather impatiently on Steve's tight blue t-shirt. "Please, baby, I wanna see your gorgeous body."

A pink blush crept up Steve's cheeks, and he smiled, revealing the dimple that Tony firmly believed could launch a thousand ships as he reached behind him, tugging the t-shirt over his head and tossing it onto the floor. Tony grabbed onto Steve's wrists, gliding his palms up his beautiful arms to his broad shoulders, then down to his pecs and abs, pleasure shooting through him like an arrow with every tiny hitch in Steve's breath.

"God, you're just so fucking gorgeous," he whispered once Steve was completely naked, in absolute awe of the exquisite man hovering over him. "How'd I get so damn lucky?"

Instead of responding Steve ducked his head to kiss him again, sliding his hand under Tony's shoulder.

"I'm the one who's lucky, sweetheart. Now, will you please roll over for me?"

Too dazed to think of another excuse, Tony obliged, rolling onto his stomach with his arms at his sides. He let out a soft moan as Steve reached for the bottle of massage oil, pouring a generous amount into his palm and rubbing them together.

"This isn't going to be a deep backrub since you're still healing," Steve said as he started at the back of Tony's neck, his slicked palms gliding easily across Tony's skin. "More of a rubdown, okay? Just enough to relax you."

"Whatever you say, honey," Tony mumbled into his pillow, his muscles already turning to mush. The bruises that he'd had on his back caused by the Hammer suits had taken a pretty long time to heal, with new ones emerging as the older ones faded, but they had all finally disappeared during their first week in Ireland so while Tony didn't think Steve needed to be as careful as he was, he wasn't about to complain about the way his husband's hands were currently running across his body.

Even if they were moving almost agonisingly slow.

"You're so beautiful, sweetheart," Steve murmured as his painter's hands finally moved further down, over Tony's sides and mid-back, his warm breath sending shivers down Tony's spine. "God, I love seeing you laid out in front of me like this!"

"Steve," Tony said, or more like whined when Steve's warm hands slid even further down to his waist, spending what seemed like hours teasing the skin just above his ass. Tony made an impatient noise in his throat, glancing back at Steve just in time to see the grin stretch across his full lips, his face flushed and his blue eyes nearly blown black.

"Shh, mo grá," he said as the tip of his tongue poked out between his perfect teeth. "Ach déan iarracht scíth a ligean. Just try and relax."

"_Steve!"_ Tony said again, this time not even trying to hide his whine as Steve finally moved down to his ass, cupping each cheek in one large palm and squeezing gently. He squirmed on the bed, gasping at the friction of the sheets against his crotch as Steve's index finger slipped into his crack, slowly dragging along the length of it. "Honey, now you're just teasing me!"

Steve's hands paused and he leaned over, trailing his lips across Tony's cheekbone and down to his mouth. The kiss was sloppy, wet, and desperate, with Tony moaning in protest as soon as he pulled away.

"Is breá limo an oiread sin," Steve whispered. "I love you so much, sweetheart, tell me what you want. Inis dom conas is féidir liom tú a shásamh."

"Steve, I just want _you,"_ Tony begged. "_Please_, just get me ready and get inside me."

"You're sure?" Steve asked, his lips brushing against Tony's with every word. "It's been awhile."

"Yeah, I _know!"_ protested Tony. "Which is why I want you to get started like right now!"

They had definitely not been celibate since that night that Steve faceplanted in their Tower bedroom, but at Steve's request they had limited themselves to blowjobs and handjobs—and a lot of kissing, always a lot of kissing—since he didn't feel comfortable with anything more while they were still recovering.

But now they were both finally healed, and as far as Tony was concerned that meant there were no more excuses.

With a final kiss, Steve grabbed one of the spare pillows, sliding it under Tony's hips before reaching for the lube. Tony bit his lip in anticipation as Steve warmed it between his fingers, nearly coming off the bed as Steve's index finger slowly slipped inside him.

"Relax, sweetheart," murmured Steve, his left hand a constant pressure on the small of Tony's back as he slid in a second finger. "Breathe."

"Trying," Tony said, gasping as Steve curled his fingers inside him, brushing against that magic spot that made stars dance in front of his eyes as the pleasure coil in his gut wound tighter and tighter. "Oh fuck, Steve, I'm ready. I promise I'm ready. _Please!"_

"Not yet, mo grá," Steve said, his voice so rough and husky that Tony couldn't help but let out an absolutely wanton moan. "Not gonna hurt you."

Tony huffed into his pillow, biting his lip again as Steve carefully worked him open, nearly sobbing once he finally pulled out his fingers and laid down next to him, rolling Tony onto his side.

"I want to touch as much of you as possible," Steve whispered as he hooked Tony's leg over his arm. He carefully pushed inside him, his lips never leaving Tony's skin until his hips were flush against Tony's ass and he let out a long, shaky breath.

"Tony, do you feel that?" Steve rasped against his neck. He rocked forward, pulling gasps from both of their throats. "Do you feel me inside you? Do you feel how well we fit together?"

"I do, baby," Tony choked out, his words slurred like he was drunk. "Feels so fucking good!"

Steve rocked forward again, a bit more forceful this time, then wound his arms around Tony's chest and shifted them so he was mostly on his back, with Tony half on top of him. The change in position caused Steve to slip even deeper inside him, and gave Steve free reign to glide his hands all over Tony's chest, each touch of his fingers like a hot brand on Tony's already overheated skin.

"I tried to calculate it once, the odds of us meeting," Steve continued, now rocking slowly but steadily. "But the number got too high for me to keep going so I finally just gave up." His fingers trailed up Tony's chest to cup his chin, turning his head to look at him. "It was astronomical, even higher than one in a million, and yet somehow I still managed to find you. I still managed to find you and Peter, and I don't—I don't know what I would've done if I hadn't. You saved me, sweetheart. You and Peter, you both saved me."

"But you saved us first," Tony croaked. He wound his arm around Steve's neck, pulling him down for a sloppy kiss that was all teeth and tongues and panting breaths. "You just appeared out of nowhere in the middle of the desert, I couldn't believe you were even real."

"I'm real, mo grá. I'm real, and I'm here, and you're in my bed and in my arms, and I love you so damn much that I can't even tell you. Ni féidir liom maireachtáil gan tú, Tony. Ciallaíonn tú gach rud domsa, agus anois, ba mhaith liom go tiocfaidh tú chugam!" Steve trailed his fingertips gently over the scars marking the centre of his chest and down to his pelvis, curling his fingers around Tony's aching erection and stroking him in time with his thrusts. "You're so beautiful, sweetheart, I want to see you come for me!"

Tony tried to hold off his impending climax, if only because he wanted Steve to let go with him. But the torturously sweet combination of Steve's cock thrusting inside him and Steve's nimble fingers curled around his own was too much for him to handle, and he cried out as he came, gasping and shuddering and still clinging to Steve's neck with their foreheads pressed tightly together. Steve followed only a second or two later, his face twisted into such exquisite pleasure that an aftershock rippled through Tony's body that was almost as strong as his orgasm.

They laid there for awhile, just clinging to each other's sticky, sweat-soaked bodies with their hearts beating in tandem. Tony was so relaxed and sated that by the time Steve kissed him on the cheek and rolled him onto his side, he had nearly fallen asleep. He winced as Steve gently pulled out of him, then gathered him into his arms and carried him into their shower, washing his hair and body with the same reverence he'd just displayed during their lovemaking.

"I love you, Tony," Steve said once they were curled up together on their bed, with Tony's back pressed up against Steve's bare chest and his head tucked under Steve's chin. He pressed a kiss to Tony's cheek, his voice trembling ever-so-slightly. "I love you so much, I can't—"

"Shh, honey," Tony whispered. He turned his head just enough to cup Steve's cheek. "It's okay, I'm here. I love you, and I'm always gonna be here."

Steve gave a shaky nod, kissing Tony one final time. "Me too, sweetheart. Always."

_Whatever it takes._

* * *

"Hey, Steve?" Natasha said as she entered the anteroom off of the Avengers' main Compound training area, quietly so as to not startle him. "Everyone's ready if you are."

"Okay." Steve turned a page in his rather beat-up notebook, rereading a few of the notes he'd scribbled earlier that morning. "Um… I'll be there in a couple minutes, okay?"

"Sure. Everything all right?"

"Oh yeah," Steve answered, without hesitation. "Yeah, everything's fine, I just—just give me a couple minutes, okay?"

"Well, all right," said Natasha, a slight smirk playing on her lips. "But you know what usually happens when we leave Bucky, Sam, and Clint idle for too long."

Steve grinned, knowing all too well the kind of trouble the three of them tended to get into when they were bored. "Yeah, I do. I'll be down in a minute."

"All right. See ya in a minute."

He stared down at the notebook until he heard Natasha's departing footsteps, huffing out a sharp breath once he was alone again. He had no real reason to be as nervous as he was, but he supposed Sam would tell him that it didn't matter if there was a reason for it or not. His feelings were still his feelings.

At Steve's suggestion, the team had taken almost the entire summer off to rest and recuperate. He'd realised once he got home from Georgia that they had been going nearly non-stop for almost four years, and with most of the former HYDRA agents currently on trial and the rest being tracked down by SHIELD, Steve finally felt that they could take a very well-deserved break.

And what a restful break it was. Aside from his wonderful vacation to Ireland with Tony and Peter, Clint and Natasha had spent a month out in Indiana with his sister-in-law and her family along with the Maximoffs, while Sam and Bucky ended up with season tickets to the Mets, inviting George Stacy to join them whenever he was available.

But now the summer was coming to a close, and while there hadn't been any whispers of any newly developing threats as of yet, Steve knew it was only a matter of time before someone or something else came along and the Avengers would be called to action.

And as the team leader, it was his responsibility to make sure that the team was ready when that day came.

Setting down the notebook, Steve grabbed his cowl and picked up his shield, sliding it into place on his left arm. He was wearing a brand-new Captain America uniform that Tony had just finished making for him the previous night. The rest of the team had new uniforms too, including a new Spider-Man suit for Peter and suits for Wanda and Pietro Maximoff, who Steve had allowed to join the team with the understanding that they wouldn't be assisting with missions until he believed they were ready.

"All right," he said quietly to himself. "Let's do this."

Sam had warned Steve that it would take some time for him to get back into the swing of things after his experience down in the HYDRA prison, and as usual, Sam had been absolutely correct. The Ireland vacation had helped, as did the unwavering support from Tony and Peter, but Sam had also warned Steve that only he could work through his own traumatic experiences. Others could sympathise and help him, but Steve's demons were all his own. They were personalised, so to speak, which meant that only he could defeat them.

Which Steve had every intention of doing so, starting with the first Avengers' training session in the newly remodelled training centre.

Stepping into the hallway, Steve paused for just a moment outside the double doors before pushing them open, his heart fluttering as everyone turned to look up at him, with Tony giving him an approving wink.

It had been a little over four years since SHIELD had pulled him out of the Arctic ice, and two weeks later sent he and James to recover Tony and Peter from their kidnappers in Afghanistan. Those two weeks had been the most disorienting days of his life, having no home, no real identity, not knowing at all what to do with himself in the strange, new world of the future.

And now he had not only a home, but also an incredible husband and a son that he adored beyond reason to share it with.

Tony, Peter, James, Natasha, Clint, Bruce, Sam, Bucky, Pietro, Wanda, and Thor. They weren't only his teammates, they were also his _family._

"Looking pretty snazzy up there, Cap!" Sam called from his spot about a metre or so away from Bucky. "Are ya ready to get started?"

_Yes, I am, _Steve thought as his eyes swept across his teammates, all waiting expectantly for him to give the word.

"Avengers!" he said, loud and commanding, then paused, glancing down first at Tony, then Peter, both of whom gave him encouraging nods.

"Let's get to work!"

**The End.**

* * *

_**It's hard for me to admit that the story is over! I can't thank all of you enough for all of your wonderful reviews on Pieces of Echoes and this story!**_

_**Please don't forget to leave me a review here and tell me what you think!**_

_**Until next time! :)**_


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